For What It's Worth
by mywordsareyours
Summary: Kevin's married. Joe's planning his solo career. Nick's...well, he's got nothing. That all changes once Joe announces he's going on the road. Nick meets Miley, an assistant tour manager. She's out of his league and off limits. But the more Nick's around her, the more inspired he becomes. If he lets go of Miley, he won't only lose the music, he'll lose everything.
1. London, United Kingdom

**For What It's Worth**

It's wrong.

It's wrong to be here. In London. In this massive hotel room, an expensive suite no less.

It's wrong to be here with her. It's wrong to be with her period.

Oh God. But that last thought. It tears through his chest. He couldn't, _wouldn't_, imagine how much worse it would get if he ever lost her. If she left, she'd take his heart with her. And he would die. He would die a slow, painful death as the rest of her oozed through the complex maze of his veins and arteries before he bled out completely.

It's kind of funny though. Here he is, imagining her running off with his most vital organ, when she already has it. His heart is already hers, and he's doing quite fine without it.

He sits up, tucking his legs beneath him. He makes sure to keep his movements slow and light to prevent her from feeling them. And though he does his best, she still sighs and rolls to his pillow, only content when her arms are wrapped around it.

She is perfect. That was the first word that came to mind whenever he tried to describe her. To be honest, it's the only word that would ever fit.

No man would be able to deny that she was a physical knockout. Her light brown hair has these random blonde streaks that would sparkle (literally, he was positive of it) when caught in the sunlight. Her sapphire eyes are terrifying yet comforting all at the same time. Her body must have been crafted by the gods. Her breasts, hips, and ass are all in perfect proportion. And her legs. He groaned at the thought of them and how just a little while ago they were wrapped around him.

Somehow, he decides that he likes the little things about her more. The way she crinkles her nose in the most adorable of ways to make him laugh. How she paints her nails a different color every day. The happy dance she bursts into whenever she gets completely excited over something. How she shares her iPod with him, each with an earbud. She never says a word. She just lets the lyrics do all the talking for her. And he would understand completely.

With each passing moment, the melody playing in his head becomes louder. Unable to wait any longer, he gets up. He picks up the acoustic guitar resting against the wall and pulls it onto his lap as he sits in one of the suede armchairs.

His gaze drifts out the wall-length mirror while his fingers continue to strum the strings. He can see the London Eye aglow even though the rest of the city is swallowed in darkness. Except for the streetlights. And the business offices. And the shopping centers.

It sounded more romantic before. He should've stopped while he was ahead.

His eyes focus again on the giant wheel. He wanted to ride on it that night with her. She declined. _You should know better_, she chastised.

She was right. Though he hated to admit and never would admit it out loud. She was always right.

But she's older and, as the saying goes, wiser.

Leaning back against the chair, his fingers slip once he realizes she's awake. She's propped up in bed, her head cradled by one of her hands. And she's watching.

"Sorry," she murmurs. "Pretend I'm not here."

"Why would I want to do that?"

She whines softly as he lays the guitar down. "No, Nicky. Don't stop because of me."

His ears twitch at the sound of him purring his name. He was never fond of the nickname growing up. Coming from her though, it sounds like a sweet symphony.

"I only started because of you."

"I didn't realize I was so inspiring."

"Yes, you did." He chuckles, catching her laugh along with him. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"I don't mind. I like listening to you play."

"Well, I don't feel like playing anymore."

"You should write them down. The notes. So you don't forget them in the morning."

"I won't. I have a mind like a steel trap."

He's not sure where the analogy came from. All he knows is that it makes her snort. And it's perfect.

She tosses her head, letting her hair fall behind her shoulders. "If you're not going to play anymore, _maybe_ you should come back to bed."

He likes that idea. He likes it a lot.

Abandoning the guitar and armchair, Nick crawls onto the bed. She lifts the sheets just enough to cover them once he's settled beside her. Her head finds its usual spot against his shoulder while her fingers stroke the bare skin of his chest.

He tries to keep still. It really isn't fair that the lightest of her touches still manages to do wonders on his body. It only makes him feel all the more inadequate and inexperienced when he's incapable of keeping his composure.

"You don't have to be so tense, Nicholas."

"I know."

"I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?"

"No," he replies, almost too eagerly. "No, of course not."

"Good. Because I was going to say that we've done far worse than lying in a bed together."

A smirk forms on his lips before the depth of her words sinks in. "Worse? You think it's bad being with me?"

"I never said that."

"You said we've done worse than-"

"I meant that we've done less innocent things than lying together." She leans up, resting one arm on the mattress while the other combs through his dark curls. "That's all."

"Oh."

"Please don't be upset."

"I'm not upset."

"You are. I can see those worry lines on your temple," she says, pressing her lips to them. "They always come out when you freak out."

"I'm not freaking out."

"You are."

"Miley—"

Laughing, she kisses his forehead again. "You _are_."

He tilts his head back, letting his mouth meet hers. She gives in all too easily. If she was able to resist him, they wouldn't be in this predicament now.

It's worth it though. She's so worth it.

With one final kiss, she curls back into his side. "Go to sleep now, Nicholas. It's late."

"I'm not tired."

"We have a busy day tomorrow. There are interviews in the morning. Then, we have a quick photo shoot. And after all that, it's over to the venue for sound check and then the concert before heading out."

"And by we, you mean you and Joe."

"It's Joe's tour. You're—"

"Just tagging along?"

Miley shakes her head. "You'll be in the spotlight again soon enough. You'll have an album and a tour all your own, and it'll be amazing."

"And then you can come on tour with me. We can be together all the time, and it'll be okay then."

"Mhm."

She rolls onto her shoulder. With her back to him, Nick wonders if he's said something wrong. If he's done something to upset her. He's always been careful around her, with her.

But if she's mad anyway...

"Miley," he murmurs. "Will you—?"

Her hand suddenly reaches for his arm, pulling him to her. As his body molds around hers, he shuts his mouth. He figured he'd give it a shot. He's tried every night, for so many nights, to ask her the same question.

She never gives him a chance to finish.

Instead, he lays beside her. He can feel her slowly start to drift off in his arms as his fingers strum against her skin, playing a silent song that he's still trying to figure out. And if she goes, he knows he never will.

* * *

**Hey! So this is my latest venture in the Nick/Miley fandom. I hope that you enjoyed this prologue. Chapter One will take us back in time, just a little bit. ****I'm pretty excited about this story, so I hope that you will be, too. **


	2. Los Angeles, California

The news hit him hard. He could say that it was like being hit by a ton of bricks, but that would be entirely too cliche and hardly do the pain in his chest justice. No, instead Nick would say that it was like being in a ten car pile-up. That he was that one car, not the driver, but the actual car that was being crushed and destroyed from the outside, in.

"Solo?" he says in a voice that sounds much too high-pitched to be his own. "You're going solo?"

"Yeah," Joe replies. "It's gonna be great, Nick. I recorded a demo, and Hollywood gave me the green light."

"But when? When did you record—?"

"While you were in London. Dad arranged for me to get some studio time."

"You went behind my back?"

"I just recorded a few songs."

"You didn't tell me. I'm your _brother_. I'm your _best friend_."

Joe sighs. "Nick, I know that."

"Then why did you keep this from me? You should've told me. I should've been the _first_ person that you told."

"Okay." His older brother gives in, relaxing only slightly in his armchair. "Okay, you're right. I should've come to you earlier."

Nick huffs. He already knows that he's right. He doesn't need stupid Joe telling him things that he's aware of.

"You're being selfish," he grumbles. "We're supposed to make an album as a band next year. We took the time off. We were writing."

"I wasn't writing. Not for the band, at least."

"Well, I was. And Kevin was, too." He suddenly remembers that his oldest brother is sitting there with them. He'd almost forgotten considering how quiet he's been. "Kev, tell him you've been working on stuff for the band."

He bows his head, taking a newfound interest in the pattern of their parents' living room carpet. "Nick, I haven't had time to. With everything going on with the house in Jersey—"

"But aren't you listening to anything Joe's saying? He's planning an entire album without us, and you're just sitting there like—like...like you already know."

Then, there's that pile-up feeling again. Except, this time, there are twenty cars.

"You told Kev?"

Joe slumps forward. "I threw the idea at him, asked for his opinion. He was totally okay with it, Nick. I figured that you would be, too."

"Does it _seem_ like I'm okay with it?"

"I mean, not right now. Eventually, though..."

Nick's fists tighten in his hair, pulling at the curls in anguish. "I can't believe you're doing this."

"You did a solo project last year."

"While we were working on Jonas Brothers stuff! It's not like I made the two of you put your lives on hold so that I could do my own thing."

"We had to cancel dates on our last tour because of you."

"That had nothing to do with my album. I was doing Les Mis, then."

"Of course it had nothing to do with your album. Your album was a flop."

"A flop?" he cries, jumping to his feet. "I sold over eighty thousand copies."

His brother scoffs. "That's nothing compared to what we sell together."

"And how do you think your solo album will compare? You think you're gonna be the next big thing?"

"You never know."

"I know that you won't," Nick spits back. "No one takes us seriously. The only people buying our albums are the die-hard fans who don't realize the steep decline that our career is taking. We're going to be nobodies by this time next year if we split up."

"Guys, c'mon," Kevin soothes. "Let's calm down for a second."

"Calm down? What the fuck is _wrong_ with you, Kev? You're not even giving a shit about _anything_ that's going on."

"Because I've already accepted it, Nick. Joe and I gave you our blessings to do whatever you wanted with your solo project. Don't you think he deserves the same?"

"Not now."

"Then when, Nick?" Joe asks, somehow managing to keep his tone low. "After we're all washed up? After there's nothing left for us as brothers?"

His stomach knots up. He doesn't want to think about that. They gave everything they had for success. For the platinum records. For the sold-out tours. Nick doesn't know what he's going to do once everything's gone. When it all becomes a distant memory.

He falls back into his seat, folding his hands in his lap. "Can't you give it one more year? Give us one more shot to make an album together."

Joe licks at his lips. "Nick, I—I wish I could. But the label...they're already planning a summer promo tour."

And it's just like that, that Nick feels the last glimmer of hope slip out of reach.

"You should've told me first."

"I know, Nick. But, hey—" He reaches forward, tapping his little brother's knee. "You can help me write. Or produce. It's not like I'm gonna leave you out in the cold. You can totally get involved in this if you want."

"What if I don't want to?"

He swallows. "Then, that's okay, too. I was just hoping that you'd want to give me a hand. You're so talented, bro. It'd be a shame if you let it all go to waste."

"It's not going to go to waste. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to make another record with the Administration. Yeah! That's what I'm going to do. And we're going to release our album the same day that you release yours. Then we'll see who's the real flop."

Kevin groans, ready to take on his role of peacemaker again. "Nick, you're overreacting."

"At least I have some kind of reaction."

"Nick, c'mon."

"I'm not going to help you," he says, getting to his feet. "You can do everything on your own."

"Nick—"

"Don't talk to me. I want nothing to do with your solo career or you."

He storms out the room, stomping his way up the stairs. Nick Jonas was never one to throw tantrums. He always go his way. Always. But for someone to take away his biggest dream—for his brother to do it—well, it absolutely calls for a tantrum.

Nick slams his door. Flings himself on his bed. Presses his face into his pillow. Squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe this is all a dream. An all too realistic nightmare. He'll wake up and everything will go back to the way it was.

"Nicholas?"

Yes. There's his mom. She's coming to wake him up.

The door opens. His room is suddenly filled with the familiar scent of her perfume. "Darling, are you all right?"

"Mhm. Just tired, I guess."

"I meant about Joe and...and his album."

Oh. So that was real.

Crap.

"No."

She sighs softly and climbs onto his bed. Once she's close enough, Nick rolls over and curls himself into her side. At least, she still cares, he thinks. It's more than he can say for his brother, a modern day Benedict Arnold.

Benedict Jonas.

"It's not fair, Mom. Joe gets to record and tour, and I'm stuck here with nothing."

"Nicholas, you know that's not true. There are so many opportunities for you. And Daddy has connections. He can make some phone calls. You can have whatever you want, baby. A role in a movie. A guest spot on a T.V. show—"

"I don't want to act."

"You don't have to. You don't even have to stay in L.A.. We can all go to Dallas for a bit. You, me, Daddy, and Frankie—and even Elvis. Think of how much fun that could be."

There's a childish tone in her voice that Nick doesn't appreciate. He's eighteen now, a grown man. Sure, maybe he's seeking comfort in his mother and letting her pet his hair, but that doesn't mean he's a little boy.

"I want to sing."

"Oh. Actually, I was reading an article in the paper today. They're having a casting call for this new musical that's opening—"

"My own music. I want to sing my _own_ music."

She sighs, cradling him a little closer to cushion the fall that she's about to break. "Nick, honey, you can't right now."

"But why not?"

"Because it's Joe's turn to step into the spotlight. How would you like it if he started up his own tour when he knew that you were going on one first?"

He grumbles. "I wouldn't."

"It's only for a few months, Nicholas," she soothes, rubbing his arm. "He'll be back with the band in no time."

"But what if he's actually good?" he blurts out. "What if his album sells millions of copies, and he doesn't want to get back with the group?"

"You're brothers. He's always going to choose you over the music."

If only Nick could answer that the same way.

"You should talk to him, Nicholas. Smooth things over."

"I don't want to yet."

"You can't hold onto your anger, either. It's only going to make things worse."

"I guess."

"He loves you, and I know that you love him," she says, kissing his temple. "And I also know that he's waiting right outside your door."

"Mom—"

"I told him that I'd come talk to you first to try to calm you down a bit. He just really wants your support, Nick. Your opinion means more to him than you realize."

Nick pulls away, realizing that his brother isn't the only Benedict Jonas in this house. "Well, I think that he sucks. That's my opinion."

"Language," his mother chastises. "I don't believe you, either. You would never think that about Joe."

_I'd never think that Joe would go behind my back_, he wants to snap. But his mother doesn't deserve that. She's trying to make things better. It's not her fault that one of her sons is a selfish, arrogant—

"So can I send him in then? Will you talk to him?"

Nick sighs. "Do I really have a choice?"

She simply grins. "I love you, and I know you'll do the right thing."

"Love you, too," he replies as she moves for the door. As for the whole 'doing the right thing' part, he can't honestly comment on that.

He's only alone for what feels like a second before Joe is bounding in. He leaps onto the bed, rolling over until he's face to face with Nick. "Mom said you'd talk to me."

"That's why you're so excited?"

"I didn't know if you'd shut me out. I mean, you shut me out of your room. Who's to say that you wouldn't shut me out of your life?"

And though he tries really, really hard to fight it, the corners of Nick's lips tug up into a smile. "Drama queen."

"Right. _I'm_ the drama queen. I don't think I was the one who caused a whole scene and stomped upstairs."

"Because I was angry."

"Are you still?"

"Yeah. I'm angry at you for keeping this from me, for telling me last, for knowing that I wasn't going to like it but going through with it anyway."

"I didn't like you going off with the Administration."

His mouth falls open. "You were the one who pushed me into it."

"I supported you, but that didn't mean that I liked it."

"Oh. So I guess you were pretty happy when that didn't take off."

Joe shakes his head. "Nick, I'd never wish failure on you. I just get that as an artist, there are certain songs that you want to put out there. Those songs that you had weren't for us as a group. They were for you."

"And that's what these songs are? Your stories that you want to share with the world?"

"Yeah." He scoots closer, his knees just touching his younger brother's. "You get it, don't you, Nick? You understand."

He does. He knows that exact feeling, that desire. He knows the rush of getting the right notes in the perfect order. He knows that eureka moment when you find that word that you'd been racking your brain for hours to name.

He also knows the frustration that comes along with it. That rut you find yourself in when the notes clash and that one word stays hidden in the darkest crevices of your mind. Those long nights when you sit with your guitar, just praying that it'll compose the song on its own.

A light tugging on his sleeve draws Nick back to reality. "You okay?"

"Mhm. Fine. Just thinking."

"About how much you hate me?"

Nick scoffs, rolls his eyes up to his brother's. "I don't hate you, Joe. We're brothers."

"We're _best_ bros."

"You're not supposed to say that. You know how Frankie gets jealous."

"Frankie's not here."

"True," Nick acquiesces, finally bumping his fist to Joe's. "I'm sorry I freaked out before. It was just—it still is—a lot to handle."

"I guess I could've broken it to you a little easier."

"A little?"

"A lot," Joe answers. "Sorry about that."

Nick groans and wraps his arms around his pillow. "I feel like we're breaking up."

"Yeah. One of those 'It's not you, it's me' kinda things."

"Well, it really is you."

Joe's frown eases into a smile once he picks up on Nick's teasing tone. "I'm sorry that things had to end this way. We had a lot of great times together," he says in falsetto, cuddling into Nick's side. "I'll never forget the way you made me feel."

"Joe."

"I'm sure you'll find a real nice girl to replace me with because that's what you deserve: a real, nice girl."

"Cut it out."

"But if you want to write some really sappy songs about how our relationship went sour and turn me into an instant celebrity overnight, that'd be cool, too."

"Shut up." Nick laughs as he swings the pillow onto Joe's face. "You're such an ass sometimes."

"You love me."

"Most days."

"Ouch. That hurt, fro-bro." He reaches over to ruffle Nick's hair. "Don't worry. I'll include a breakup song about you on my album. I'll sing it every night on the road, and it'll become an instant fan favorite."

"How kind of you."

Joe chucks the pillow at him. "I'm really going to miss you, though. It's not going to be the same touring without you."

"That's what happens when you go solo."

His brother winces at the slight venom hidden in Nick's words. He didn't mean for it to come out like that, but he's not going to blame himself for it.

"You could come with me."

"On tour?"

"Yeah, you know, keep me company. You could be my little groupie."

"That's what you have Dad for."

"But if you're not going to help me write the album, you could at least help me out with promoting it."

"It's not my fault that I can't write—"

Joe frowns. "You're still in that slump?"

Nick nods. "It's, like, no matter what I do, I can't get out of it. I'm just...stuck."

"Then that's even more of a reason for you to come with me. How many songs have you written while we were on the road?"

"BB Good, Don't Speak, Tonight, Burnin' Up—"

"All right, Boy Wonder, I get it. You've got superhuman, songwriting abilities."

"Jealous?"

Joe simply grunts. "Come on tour with me. It'll work out for the both of us. You'll get some new material, and I'll have a best buddy to hang with."

"And what if I end up writing a whole album?"

"As long as you don't release it the same day that I release mine, I'll be totally cool with it. I'll even buy the first copy."

"I'll buy the first copy of yours."

"Okay, girlfriend. Don't get all sentimental on me."

"Don't call me girlfriend," Nick argues, shoving Joe. "And if either one of us was the girl in this relationship, it'd be you."

"In this relationship? Didn't realize I was your type, Nicholas."

"Ugh. You know what I mean."

He lunges for Joe. The two of them roll across the sheets, eventually tumbling onto the floor.

"You're weak," Joe says once he's got Nick beneath him.

"Am not. I've been working out."

"Are too. You've got scrawny arms."

The door swings open again. Their mom pops her head in. "Real wrestling or play wrestling?"

"Play wrestling."

"Okay."

Joe collapses entirely on Nick once she's gone, his full weight pressing against his brother's chest. "We're going to have so much fun together. Trust me. You won't regret this."

But Nick just pushes at his shoulders. "Can't...breathe."

"Oh? Is that part of the song you're going to write about me? How I leave you breathless?"

"Seriously, Joseph. Get off."

"Not until you admit that this is going to be the best tour ever."

"No."

"Say it."

"Joe." He shoves at him again, trying to roll him over. Not that it works. "You're going to suffocate me."

"Say it."

"_Besttourever_," Nick rushes out in a single exhale. And, as promised, Joe gets up. "I hate you."

"Liar. You said it yourself. You love me most of the time."

"This is not one of those times."

"Oh, c'mon, girlfriend. Embrace the love." Joe grins. "C'mon, though. Really. I'm going to buy us ice cream to celebrate."

"Celebrate what?"

"Us getting back together," he replies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then, he's out the door and shouting in the hallway. "Attention, everyone. Joick is back on. I repeat, Joick is back on."

There's still a light pressure in Nick's chest as he chuckles. His brother is a moron.

He tilts his head to the side, catching a glimpse of the folders beneath his bed. There they are: all of his failures organized and piled together by name and date. And while their themes and tones and genres all vary, there's one quality that they share. They are all unfinished.

But that's going to end now, he promises himself. He's going to go on tour with Joe, and he's going to write songs. Lots of them. An entire album's worth. He's going to finish them all.

He just needs to figure out where to start first.

* * *

**Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay in update, but I'm going to be better with that now. I'd like to thank all of you for checking out the story so far. I hope that you're enjoying it. I promise to reply to all of your reviews soon. I'm still figuring this site out (sadly). And hopefully, you'll be excited to meet Miley in the next chapter.**

**Also, a quick thank you to When I'm Afraid. She mentioned this story when she posted her latest chapter so I'm sure she's responsible for a bunch of you reading this. If you haven't checked out her stories, you definitely should :)**


	3. Burbank, California

There is absolutely no time for a Starbucks run. Yet, here they are, standing in the obnoxiously long line as they wait to give their order.

But that's the beauty of this being Joe's tour. There isn't any pressure on Nick. He doesn't have to rush around doing promos or get pampered on photo shoot sets or head to crazy early in the morning business meetings.

Except that's exactly what he's doing now. Not that they're actually at the meeting yet. No, Joe insisted that he couldn't function without making a stop first.

"Should I get a strawberry Frappucino or a coffee?"

Nick rolls his eyes. "I don't think a strawberry Frappucino has much caffeine in it."

"But it tastes good."

"That's not why we came here though. You claimed that you were falling asleep in the car."

"I was. I could hardly keep my eyes open."

He bites his tongue, holding back on how getting to the meeting on time should be his priority. Especially as there's rush hour traffic. Nick's pretty sure that it's started to rain now, too.

"I guess I'll stick with a regular cup of joe then." His face lights up. "A cup of Joe. Get it? Like a cup of myself."

"Hilarious."

"I'm gonna go pee."

Nick simply huffs as his brother disappears. They really don't have time for this. There's no way that they're going to make it to Hollywood Records before the hour's up. He wonders if he can bribe Joe into leaving now. Or maybe he can bribe the people ahead of him into letting them cut. That might be just a bit easier.

"Relax," he suddenly hears, accompanied by a squeeze of his shoulder. "Let him do what he wants."

He looks to his father, who is undoubtedly wearing the same frustrated face that he is. "We don't have time for this."

"I know, but we have to let him make his own decisions. It's Joe's tour we're planning for. Everything's up to him."

"I'm not sure it was a good idea to put everything in his hands."

He wonders if anyone else is aware of Joe's poor time management skills, his forgetfulness, his naivety. Putting all of this weight on his shoulders wasn't a good idea. He's going to crack under the pressure and the entire world will crash over him.

Again, his father tells him to relax.

Again, Nick has trouble listening.

* * *

It was raining when they left Starbucks. It was raining the entire drive to Burbank. And it's still raining.

They are late, too, just for the record.

"Damn," their father groans as he rummages around the glove compartment. "I've only got one umbrella."

"Can we all fit under it?" Joe asks.

"No. Maybe two of us can."

And who will be the lucky one who gets left out in the cold? Nick doesn't even need to ask to know the answer.

"You guys go," he says. "I'll double check for another one."

"Are you sure, bro?"

"Yeah. And if not, I'll just wait until it passes."

"I don't think it's going to pass anytime soon."

Nick figured as much.

"I'll come around to your side to get you, Joe," their father says as he pops his door open. "We'll be on the sixth floor, Nick. You know where the meeting room is."

He does. It's the same room where they first starting planning for the Administration.

Nick shuts his eyes and leans back against the headrest. Maybe he can hide out in the truck until they get back. It's not like they'd even know if he was there. He's not important anymore.

Except Joe would notice. He promised his older brother that he'd be there for him. It'd been a while since that first day when Joe told him about his solo project, and Nick was still a little disappointed in himself, angry that he hadn't handled the situation better. Joe never asked much of him. He never asked much of anyone. So for Nick to be the one to let him down...

He takes one step outside into the pouring rain. Okay. Not happening. He loves Joe and all, but this isn't happening. He's climbing back in the Escalade.

No, he can't. He has to get to the meeting. He has to prove to Joe that he's sorry.

By the time he makes it to the lobby, he's soaking wet from head to toe. His hair is matted down. His clothes are clinging to him in all the inconvenient and uncomfortable places. He's also pretty certain that his shoes are filled with water.

_Squeak._

Yep. They are.

Nick does his best to keep his face down as he continues to walk over to the elevators. This is so embarrassing and so unfair. This wouldn't even be happening if Joe wasn't so—

He stops himself. This isn't Joe's fault. He's supposed to be supporting Joe, not blaming him for his own stupidity.

The elevator stops at the sixth floor. Making a beeline for the bathroom, he pushes the door open and sticks his head in. "Hello?"

Good. He's alone. No one will be able to see him like this, and no one will be able to interrupt while he fixes himself. If there's anything that Nick Jonas knows how to do, it's how to clean up a mess.

He locks the door and heads over to the sinks. He takes off his shoes, dumping the water out. Then, he sits up on the countertop. He pulls off his button-down and white V-neck, holding them under the hand dryers while he swings his feet to let his socks air dry.

Okay, so this might take a while, but that's all right. He'll dry himself off and then meet everyone once the meeting is over. It's not like he can just walk in. That'd be unprofessional and rude and—

And does it even matter? Does _he_ even matter? Maybe this is something that he should prepare himself for. The fading of his name and face into the obscure realm of all the teen idols that came before him. He wouldn't be the first fool to think that the fame would last forever, and he certainly wouldn't be the last.

Nick reaches over to start up the hand dryers again. His V-neck is making progress. Unfortunately, his dress shirt is not. Of course, he had to decide to wear an Armani today. It cost him over three hundred for the thing...and that was the sale price.

He makes a mental note to stop at the dry cleaner later. He'll be damned if his shirt is ruined because of Joe.

No, he critiques himself, this isn't Joe's fault. You should've looked up the weather this morning. You should've known that it was going to rain to—

_Clink._

Nick's head shoots up at the sound. He glances towards the stalls, ears perked. But then his eyes roll back downwards at the sight of something rolling towards him.

It's a bottle of blue nail polish.

Oh God. He's locked himself in the bathroom with someone. Some guy who wears nail polish. Fuck. Can this get any worse?

"Shit."

Yes, it can. He's stuck himself in here with a guy who wears nail polish and sounds like a girl.

Nick only manages to hop to his feet by the time the room fills with the sounds of a toilet flushing and the stall swinging open. And as he desperately tries to pull on his V-neck, his eyes land on a pair of bright blue ones.

Okay, so this moment just got infinitely worse. Instead of being stuck in here with a guy who wears nail polish and sounds like a girl, he's stuck in here with an _actual_ girl.

"Sorry," she exclaims. "The women's room was locked. I didn't think anyone would come in here this early."

Uh...didn't he say hello before he walked in? Yes. Yes, he did.

Her gaze stays on his as she reaches down for the nail polish, stuffing it into her bag. "I tried hiding in the stall. I didn't realize that you'd be in here for so long."

He didn't realize she'd be in here at all.

"Do you need help or something? Is your arm stuck?"

He grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. Here he is thinking that she's the idiot. He's the one standing there half-dressed with a shirt stuck over his head.

Nick pulls the material down, feeling it cling to his overheated and flushed skin. "I'm fine," he mutters as he tries to look preoccupied by straightening it out over his torso.

"Okay. Well, I'll just go then." She glances towards the door and then, hesitating, looks back to him. "Do you mind if I wash my hands first?"

Grumbling, Nick grabs his button-up, unlocks the door, and heads out, squeaking the entire way.

* * *

"There was a girl in the men's room?"

Nick nods as he walks with Joe, glad that he's not the only one who found the whole situation to be incredulous. He's also glad that the meeting ran long enough for him to almost completely dry off.

_Squeak. Squeak._

Almost.

"Yeah," Nick replies, making Joe's eyes snap up from his shoes to his face. "Like I checked if anyone was in there before I went in."

"And you didn't see her?"

"It's not like I did a thorough walk-through. I just called out, figuring a normal person would respond. She didn't say anything."

"What was she even doing in there?"

"She told me the women's room was locked. So instead of fessing up, she just hid there until I heard her."

"That's pretty embarrassing."

That's what Nick keeps telling himself. It's more embarrassing being caught in the wrong restroom then having someone walk in on you while you're drying yourself off in front of the hand dryers. Right?

"Was she hot?"

"_Joe_."

He snickers. "C'mon. It's not that hard of a question."

"You really think that I was checking her out while I was standing there half-naked in front of her?"

"She was probably checking you out then."

Nick punches his shoulder. "Not funny."

"Hey, you don't have to be insecure about your body. I'll schedule some time for us to workout while we're on the road. I'm sure we can hit up a few gyms."

"You're not going to have time for that, Joe."

"I'll make time," he replies, swinging his arm over his younger brother's shoulders. "I wouldn't have you come on tour with me if I wasn't planning on hanging with you."

"You'll have shows and interviews and photo shoots and—"

"And date nights with my best girl."

"Ugh. Cut it out," Nick whines, ducking out of Joe's hold. "I'm not a girl, and we're not having date nights."

"We can call it bro time if it makes you feel better."

"I'd feel better if you'd leave me alone. And drop the whole bromance thing, too. You always do that. You take a joke and you run with it for too long until it gets annoying."

"Jeez. Someone's cranky. I think your levels are off."

"_Levels_?"

Nick groans as their father turns back for them. "Way to go, asshole," he mutters. "You just had to say the l-word and set off his diabetic radar."

Sure enough, Kevin Sr. bustles over. "You're not feeling well, Nick?"

"I'm fine."

"Why don't you go sit in the conference room? They have a whole breakfast spread out. Joe and I will meet you after we take a look at the album artwork."

"I can go with you guys. Seriously, I'm fine."

Joe scoffs. "You don't even like art, Nick. I ended up picking most of the pictures for the LVATT album."

"Lines, Vines, and Trying Times," he corrects. "I hate that goddamn abbreviation."

"Eat," Kevin Sr. says. "Now."

He's pushed into another room. Right away, Nick notices it's filled with food. There are platters everywhere. Bagels. Rolls. Donuts. Cups of yogurt. Pots of coffee.

Nick snickers. "What is this, a breakfast party or something?"

"Or something."

His head whips around at the sound of that familiar voice. Then, he's staring into an all too familiar pair of blue eyes. It's her again.

Is this a fucking joke? Did Joe somehow manage to track her down and put her in this room with him? She doesn't even seem surprised to see him this time around.

She takes a step closer. "So we meet again."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Must be destiny," he deadpans.

She laughs. It's a high-pitched melody that makes him snap to attention. "That's my name."

"What is?"

"Destiny."

"Your name is Destiny?"

"Uh huh."

"That's not a name. That's a word."

"It is a name. It's _my_ name." Grinning, she looks up to him. "Destiny Hope, if you want to be specific."

He frowns. Destiny Hope...it sounds like the name of a fairytale character or the female protagonist of a cheesy romance novel. Either way, it doesn't exactly fit her.

"Never heard that one before."

She crinkles her nose. "Then I guess you won't forget it."

Hold up. Is she flirting with him?

Well, he's used to this routine. The girls who think that if they bat their eyes enough or show enough skin, they might get his attention. But this one—Destiny Hope—is different. She actually managed to get herself alone with him not once, but twice.

Nick offers her a smile. "So what can I do for you? Were you looking for an autograph or a picture?"

"Excuse me?"

"You can't honestly expect for me to think that it's a coincidence that we've already run into each other twice this morning."

She licks her lips. "You said it yourself. It must be destiny."

Nick chuckles. She's good. She's very good.

Destiny Hope crosses her arms, stands a bit taller. "You can't really believe that I set this up on purpose."

"Us running into each other? Actually, yeah, I do."

"So you're telling me that I somehow managed to wake up this morning and know that I'd find you in the men's room, drying off your clothes?"

"Maybe not that exactly—"

"Then, I just hid in there for hours figuring at some point that you'd have to pee?"

"Uh...no."

"Why don't you explain it to me then?"

Nick could, except that he doesn't exactly have any idea as to how all of this happened. He only ended up back in this room because Joe had to bring up his diabetes. And he only ended up in the bathroom with her because he was all wet. That was because he didn't have an umbrella. He needed the umbrella for the rain. It was raining when they got here because Joe insisted that they had to stop at Starbucks first.

"Joe."

"Huh?"

Great. He said that out loud. As if she didn't think that he was crazy enough in the first place.

"What does your brother have to do with this?"

"Oh," he says, and then it clicks. "_Oh_. You know Joe?"

"I'm one of his assistant tour managers."

Well, then that would explain why she's here. It probably makes more sense than the creepy stalker story he was working on in his head. She's helping with Joe's tour.

"But then what are you setting this up for?"

"That's where the assistant part of my title comes in. I still have to do the shit that nobody else wants to."

"I see." Nick narrows his eyes. "Do you have identification?"

Her own eyes widen. "Identification? What, you want to see my driver's license?"

"If you work here, you must have some kind of I.D. badge."

"You've got to be kidding me. I don't have to prove anything to you."

"I just asked a simple question."

"Look, I wouldn't be here if this wasn't my job," she retorts, hands jumping to her hips. "Maybe you haven't realized this yet, but I'm not here for you. I don't care about you. I'm here for your brother who still has a career to maintain."

Maybe Nick knew everything she just said to him, but hearing the words from someone else's mouth just makes it harder to digest. From a stranger, no less.

She blinks, glances aside. "Sorry, I just—I'm used to being defensive about my career and..." Miley shakes her head. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"You didn't. It's not like you made any of that up. This isn't about me. It's about Joe."

"Uh huh."

"I'm sorry, too," he murmurs, "for the whole photograph _slash_ autograph thing. I didn't know who you were."

She's smiling again. "It's okay. As long as you didn't think I was some psycho fan following you around or something."

Right. He wasn't thinking that at all.

He extends his hand to her. "I'm Nick, by the way. I don't think I introduced myself."

"I don't think you did either," she replies, taking it in hers. "But it might be better if we just start over here anyhow."

"I'd like that."

"Me too."

Still holding onto her, he tilts her wrist to get a better view of her nails. He's not surprised to find them painted the same shade that rolled towards him earlier in the day.

Blushing, Destiny Hope pulls back. "Yeah, I was going to paint my nails while I waited for you to get out of the bathroom."

"It's a nice color."

"It's called Monday Morning Blues," she tells him. "It's not turning out to be that bad of a morning, though."

Then Nick's the one with a flushed face.

_And I will always love you. Will always love you..._

His whole body goes red as he fishes around for his phone. Destiny Hope just laughs. "What is that?"

"My brother set that as his ringtone. He's an idiot."

"Ah, so Joick is real."

"No, it's—" But he stops himself once he realizes she's joking. "He likes to think it's real, calling me his girlfriend."

"I'd think that if either one of you would be the girl, it'd be Joe."

Nick grins. Maybe she's not so bad after all.

He picks up, cutting off Whitney Houston mid-lyric. "What's up?"

"Are you still in that room?"

"Yeah, where else would I be?"

"I don't know. Sometimes, you get into your little pissy moods and go off galavanting."

"Galavanting? Do you even know what that word means?"

"Duh, Nicholas. I just used it, didn't I?" He sighs. "Anyway, I'm on my way to you now. Save me a chocolate chip muffin, kay?"

"Will do."

Nick stuffs his phone away and then turns back for her. Except she's gone.

Weird.

"Nicky J," his brother sings as he bursts through the door with the whole entourage in tow. "Wait 'til you see my album art, bro. The cover is awesome."

"I'm sure it is."

"Where's my muffin at? And where's your plate? I thought you were eating."

"No, I was talking to someone..."

Joe notices Nick's eyes shift around the room. "Who?"

"The girl from the bathroom."

"Whoa. She found you again? Stage five clinger alert."

"It wasn't like that," Nick replies, throwing a bagel on his dish. "She _works_ here."

"So she's on the food committee. Sweet."

He rolls his eyes and follows Joe over to a table. "She's working on your tour."

"Really?" Joe asks, taking a newfound interest. "Nice, Nicholas. Maybe you'll get to hook up with her on the road."

"Yeah, I don't know about that."

"Why not? No one knows about us. I'm sure she'd be ready and willing."

"There is no _us_, Joseph."

"It's not like I'd be jealous, anyway. I can totally be your wingman if you want."

"My wingman?"

"Mhm," Joe replies, stuffing more of his muffin into his mouth. "I've got my eyes on someone already."

Nick leans closer. "Who?"

"Well, I haven't met her yet, but I know all about her. She worked on The Cab's last tour. She's been on the road with Honor Society—"

"Wait, you mean that girl that Mike couldn't shut up about?"

Joe raises his eyebrows. "Miley," he smirks. "Apparently, she has a thing for lead singers. Guess who's the only singer on this tour?"

"You're crazy."

"Dude, Mike showed me pics of her. She's seriously hot. I mean, her..."

Joe's voice drifts off as Nick's attention shifts to the door. She's back. There's Destiny Hope, talking to a whole group of people. Her hands move in front of her, flashing the Monday Morning Blues all over the place.

And, yeah, maybe this isn't such a bad morning after all.

"You can pick your jaw up from the floor now."

"Huh?"

Joe pushes at his chin, moving it back into place. "Don't drool, Nicholas. It's embarrassing."

"I'm not drooling."

His older brothers shifts in his chair, stealing a quick glance over his shoulder. "You don't stand a chance, bro. She's not going to give you the time of day."

"But that's—"

"—Miley."

Miley? Nick blinks his eyes, all too sure that the image in front of him is going to change. That's not Miley. That can't be. She told him her name was Destiny Hope, and that sounds nothing like Miley. Nick's not stupid enough to confuse the two.

Joe gets to his feet. "I'm going to go say hi."

"But—that's—she's—"

"You're obviously _not_ coming with me. You can barely get out a full sentence."

"That's not—"

"Hey, let me know if you see your bathroom babe again. I'd like to meet her."

All Nick can do is watch as Joe approaches her. The group seems to disperse immediately, leaving the two of them alone. He says something to make her laugh. There's a wide smile across her face as she reaches forward, squeezing his arm.

As Nick picks at his bagel, he reevaluates the day so far. Getting caught in the rain. Being walked in on while drying off in the bathroom. Simultaneously meeting and losing Destiny Hope slash Miley...whoever she is. Now, he's going to have to make up some story so that Joe doesn't figure out that she and Bathroom Babe are one in the same.

Scratch everything that Nick thought before. Monday mornings really do suck.


	4. Boston, Massachusetts

"When I say fast, you say life. Fast!"

"No."

"Fast!"

"No."

"Fast!"

"No," Nick grunts. "I'm not doing this stupid chant with you."

"Will you lighten up a little?" Joe picks up his pace, rushing to catch up to his brother. "Try it just one time. Fast!"

Nick frowns.

So Joe lifts Nick's arms, pumping them in the air. "Life!" he shouts in falsetto.

"Cut it out," Nick retorts, pulling free. "I said that I didn't want to play your dumb games anymore, Joseph."

"They're not dumb. They're entertaining."

"Maybe for you."

"For both of us." Joe takes a quick glance at his watch and grins. "Look, we've already killed two hours. We're going to be boarding soon."

"Not soon enough."

Joe groans. "Why are you being such an ass? I'm trying to make things fun, and you keep bitching at me."

"I'm not bitching at you."

"Yeah, you are, and I'm fucking tired of it." Nick recoils. "In case you didn't realize, I could be talking to everyone else. The _entire_ group is sitting at the gate. I'd be over there with them if you weren't so antisocial."

Nick lowers his eyes. "Sorry."

"I am, too. I'm sorry I even asked you to come with me."

"Hey, I just apologized."

"I don't accept it."

"Fine. Then, I'm sorry I even agreed to go on the road with you. I should've stayed home."

"Don't come then," Joe snaps. "Go back to the house. See if I give a shit."

Huffing, Nick watches as his brother stalks his way back to the gate. He's easily welcomed into the group of guys and girls huddled around a section of chairs. But Nick doesn't get what the big fuss is. How can these people be so eager to be around Joe?

Their father looks over as Nick collapses into the chair beside him. "Can you call someone to pick me up?"

"Pick you up? Where are you going?"

"Home."

"Nicholas..."

"Dad," he sighs, "I don't wanna be here. Joe doesn't want me here. It only makes sense for me to leave."

"What makes you think that he doesn't want you here?"

"He just told me."

"Oh." Kevin Sr. leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Well, what did you do to provoke him into saying that?"

"I didn't do anything. He was annoying me, so I told him to stop. Not that Joe ever listens to what I say."

"You both need to learn to listen to each other."

Nick doesn't feel like being lectured. He's tired, pissed off, and pretty much hates everyone. So if he could leave now, it'd be awesome.

He sits back in his chair and pulls out his phone. "I'm calling Mom. She'll get me."

"It's almost eleven."

"So?"

"So your mother is tired," he replies, snatching his son's phone away. "She's taking care of your brother and your dog. Let her get some sleep."

"Then I'll take a cab."

"You're not going anywhere alone at this hour. You're flying to Boston with all of us. Then, and _only_ then, you can decide if you want to come home."

His mouth falls open. "You're going to make me fly across the country, only to fly all the way back?"

"You may not want to leave once we get there."

"As long as Joe keeps being a jackass, I will."

"Language."

Nick groans as an announcement is made to start boarding. He picks up his satchel, swings it over his shoulder, and hovers at his father's side. "I don't want to sit with him. He's only going to find ways to irritate me if we're stuck next to each other the entire flight."

"What if he saves you a seat?"

He contemplates the thought for a moment. But then he catches a glimpse of his brother handing over his boarding pass and heading for the plane, still engulfed in that same group. Yeah, that definitely won't be happening. Nick's clearly been replaced.

"He won't."

"You can sit with me."

Nick contemplates that, too. Yet, as they're walking through the aisles of seating, he declines. He'd rather be as far away from Joe as possible. So he picks a seat in a secluded row all the way in the back of the plane.

Yes. This is good. He can sit here and relax. He can sleep. He can listen to music. He can write. He has endless possibilities.

"Okay," he suddenly hears Joe shout. His brother's head then pops up, gaining everyone's attention from his seat. "When I say fast, you say life. Fast!"

"Life!" the plane choruses.

"Fast!"

"Life!"

And as massive cheering ensues, Nick shuts his eyes. This is going to be the longest plane ride of his life, and they haven't even taken off yet.

* * *

Joe sucks. He's such a dick. Just looking at him makes me sick.

Nick chuckles as he reads over the lyrics he's scribbled down in his notebook. He's never written a Grammy nominated song, but he's fairly sure that this one has potential.

He shifts the pillow behind his head. They've been in the air for about two hours now, and everyone's asleep. Everyone except Nick, that is.

"Is this seat taken?"

And except for Destiny Hope...Miley...whatever her name is.

Nick reaches for his satchel and plops it on the chair. "Yep. Looks like it is."

"Hey, I thought we agreed that we were starting over?"

"We did, but then I changed my mind."

"Sheesh. Joe was right. You are _quite_ the bundle of sunshine tonight."

He rolls his eyes. "He told you that we're fighting?"

"He told everyone," she replies, moving the satchel back to Nick's feet. "He was pretty upset over it."

"Didn't seem like it."

Smiling, she lowers herself into the seat. "Well, it was obvious that you—"

"I didn't say that you could sit there."

"Wow, you are _super_ cranky. I think Baby Jonas needs a nap."

The one thing that annoys Nick more than anything is when people undermine him because of his age. He is not a child. He is an adult.

"Frankie's the youngest," he points out.

"You're the youngest of the group."

"The group doesn't exist anymore."

"It does. You're eighteen, and that makes you the youngest."

"I'm eighteen _and a half_," he counters.

And then he wants to smack himself. Eighteen and a half? Who fucking says that?

Her smile only widens. "I apologize. I didn't know that you were so sensitive about your age."

"I don't need your apology."

"How old do you think _I_ am?"

Nick shakes his head. "I'm not playing this game."

"Why not? Aren't you the competitive one?"

"Yeah, but there's no winner. If I guess that you're younger, it makes it seem like I think that you're immature. If I guess that you're older, it's like I'm saying that you have wrinkles or grey hair or something."

"I promise I won't be offended."

"Doesn't matter."

"If you guess a younger age, I'd take it as a compliment. It means that I look good."

"Fine. Then I guess that you're twelve years old."

Her head falls back as she laughs. "Not that young. I don't want people thinking I'm some pubescent child."

"That's not what I meant," he replies, cracking just the slightest of grins. "I was only trying to—"

"Compliment me?"

Nick pauses. Maybe that was his intention. Of course, there are other things he could've complimented her on. Like how the color of her eyes mirrors that of a cloudless sky. How her hair falls in perfect ringlets, unintentional coils framing the contours of her face. The way that her smile—

"Nick?"

He jumps as she snaps her fingers, snapping him back to reality. "Yeah...uh...sorry."

"I can't believe you just zoned out on me. That's so rude."

"I was distracted."

"By what?" she teases. "My incredibly good looks?"

Yes.

"No," he answers. "The fact that you'd think that I'd compliment you."

She rolls her eyes, not giving into him. "I don't believe you. I'm not buying this smug asshole act either."

"I'm being a smug asshole?"

"You're trying to be. I don't know if that's how you flirt with girls, or if it's some kind of defense—"

"I'm not flirting with you."

"I'm twenty-three," she announces suddenly. "You were off by eleven years."

"That's two years older than Joe."

"Oh, so now we're talking about Joe again."

Nick shrugs. "I'm just pointing out that you're close in age."

"Closer than you and I."

"Well, yeah."

Wait. Does it sound like he's trying to push Joe on her? Because that's not what he wants. He'd rather have her to himself. Not that it'd ever happen. She apparently only hooks up with lead singers. Their younger brothers aren't good enough.

"He told you about me, didn't he?"

He licks his lips. "He didn't really say much."

"Just that I always get with someone during tour."

"He said the lead singer."

"I see." She leans back in her seat, staring straight ahead of her. "Do you believe him?"

"Should I?"

She blinks. "Yeah. I mean, it's true."

"Well, why do you do it?"

"For a lot of reasons. For reasons that I don't want to talk about right now."

"Okay..."

"You didn't know about me when we first met," she says quietly. "When we ended up in the bathroom together, you didn't know who I was."

"Mhm."

"I could tell. Usually, the guys have this look like they can't wait to get to me. You were different."

Nick scoffs. "Considering the circumstances, I was more surprised than aroused."

His remark is enough to make her laugh. "True."

Gathering a little courage, he leans in. "Is that why you didn't tell me your real name?"

"Destiny Hope _is_ my real name. Everyone calls me Miley, though."

"Miley." His lips test her name. And, immediately, they decide they like the feel of it.

"I didn't want you judging me based on my reputation. That's why I didn't tell you. Plus, you gave me the perfect opening."

"I did," he admits. "But did you honestly think that I'd last this entire tour without finding out?"

"Maybe it was just wishful thinking."

"Why me, though? Why did you care what I thought of you?"

"Because _you_ didn't know who I was," she says. "It was like having a clean slate. And it was kind of exciting meeting someone who didn't have any preconceived notions about me. You know what I mean?"

Nick nods. "I know exactly what you mean."

"But that only lasted five minutes because by the time I got back to the room, Joe already filled you in."

"To be honest, I was just trying to figure out why you lied to me about your name."

"You know now."

"I do."

Miley looks to him, a hopeful gleam in her eyes. "Are you still upset that I lied?"

"No."

"Good." She sits back, folding her hands in her lap. "So did Joe say anything else? Maybe how he can't wait to hang out with me?"

Nick recoils. "You're still going to do..._this_ with him?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You made it sound like you weren't interested. Like it's something you _have_ to do, instead of something that you _want_ to do."

"But I also said that I had my reasoning."

"Reasoning that you won't explain to me."

"I've told you before that I don't have to explain myself to you."

"You don't," he relents. "However, you also said that you didn't care about me, and, yet, here you are voluntarily."

"Having a conversation doesn't mean that I care about you."

"It means that you chose to talk to me instead of anyone else."

"You're the only other person awake."

"Excuses, excuses."

"Stop flirting with me, Baby Jonas."

"I'm not flirting with you, and I'm not a baby, either."

Flashing him another smile, Miley gets to her feet. "I guess I'll get back to my seat then."

"Fine."

"Okay."

Nick lunges across the seats. He grabs her hand, trying to get her attention. Instead, his attention is diverted to the color painted on her nails.

"It's called, Orange You Glad To See Me."

"Oh, I always am. Though, I do prefer this airplane setting over the bathroom one."

"Shut up."

He grins. "Look, I was just going to say that if you don't want to do this with Joe, you don't have to. I can talk him out of it. And he moves on really fast, anyway. There's always someone else he'd be willing to hook up with."

"I can handle it, Nick. I don't need you to protect me."

"Think of it as me making it up to you for being an ass the other day."

"I know what I'm getting myself into. This isn't the first time, remember?"

"But if you're only doing this because you think that you're expected to—"

"Joe's hot," she says. "It's not like I'd be torturing myself."

He shrugs. "Fine. Do what you want, then."

"I will. And since you and I are getting along again, I'm going to help you out by talking to Joe."

"You don't have to do that," he argues. It's not that he doesn't appreciate the fact that she's trying to be nice or trying to stay on his good side. Nick just doesn't want her in his business. If she gets Joe talking, he could spill secrets or embarrassing stories or mention—

"Joe sucks. He such a—"

"Whoa." Nick sits up, now finding Miley leaning over him. "Don't read that."

"What is that?"

"Just something that I was working on."

"Is it a poem?"

"No," he mutters, "it's more like...a song."

"Oh, a song. Interesting."

"You might not think it's that good, but it is."

She shakes her head. "I didn't say anything about it. I didn't even know you were writing songs at all."

"I'm not. I'm kind of stuck."

"Well, I'm sure that you'll get unstuck eventually." She leans over again, this time picking up his pen. "This is my number. Text me tomorrow."

"You're giving me your number?"

Miley licks her lips. "I figured you'd want to know how things were going with Joe. I'm going to be with him all day at the venue, so we'll have time to talk."

"Uh...okay."

_Yeah, way to go, Nick_, he thinks. _That was real suave_.

"You could talk to him when we land."

He narrows his eyes. "If he's willing to."

"What if he isn't?"

"Then, I'll probably leave."

"Nick, you can't—"

"Don't tell me what I can't do."

"All right," she sighs, moving for the aisle. "Just don't make up your mind yet. Everything's going to work out. You'll see."

Nodding, he watches as she makes her way towards the front of the plane. She glances back at him once, smiles, and then ducks down in her seat. Nick reclines in his chair. He closes his eyes and lays back on his pillow, a light melody drifting through his ears.

* * *

Later the next day, Nick realizes how lonely it's going to be on this tour. His dad, Joe, and the whole team is off doing preparations for Joe's first show. It's not that he wasn't invited along with them. It's just that Joe made it more than obvious that he didn't want Nick around.

So he's sitting now on the sofa in the suite that he shares with his brother and deciding when to text Miley. He'd been thinking about it since he got his phone back from his father and programmed those seven digits in. He also managed to avoid his father's questioning as to what was in his notebook that he was guarding so fiercely.

He should've just given Miley his number so she could update him. Not that it's ever a good idea to give your number to a stranger, especially when you're a celebrity. But he's desperate to find out what's going on with his brother. And though he doesn't want to rely on Miley's help, she may have a better chance of fixing this than he does.

"What are you doing?"

Nick gasps. He looks up to find Joe hovering over him. He didn't even hear the door open. And is that...is that Miley behind him?

It is.

"Nothing," he murmurs, stuffing his phone in his pocket. "Just hanging around."

"You have the whole day to enjoy Boston, and you're sitting on the couch with your phone?"

"You have the day off, too."

"I've been in meetings all morning."

"You have the _rest_ of the day off," Nick clarifies.

"Well, why don't you just _fuck off_, Nicholas?"

"Hey," Miley interrupts, "I thought you were going to be nice?"

Joe groans. "He's being an ass again."

"How?"

"He's irritating me."

"He's just sitting there."

"Whatever," he huffs. "Let me grab my jacket, and then we can go."

Nick watches as his brother makes a beeline for his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. And he hates this. He hates having Joe mad at him. Because as bad as it is having Joe annoy him all the time, it's better than being ignored.

"So, how's your day going?"

"All right, I guess. I've been here all morning."

"And what have you been doing?" Miley prods. "Working on that hit song about Joe?"

"No," Nick replies.

"He's going to come around, you know."

"Yeah, well, I still have my bags packed. He doesn't exactly need me here."

"Yes, he does. Nick, he told me that he practically had to _beg you_ to come on the road with him. He wouldn't have done that if he didn't want you around."

"I think he's changed his mind now."

"But you just got here. The tour hasn't even started yet. Give it a chance."

Nick shrugs.

"Did you tell Joe that—?"

"He's not going to miss me."

"But what about—?"

"All right. Let's go," Joe says as he strides back in. "I'm starving."

"Maybe Nick wants to come with us."

"And maybe he doesn't." Joe grabs her hand, leading her away. "Nick would rather sulk and bring everyone down."

* * *

It's a few hours later when he's watching Sports Center that Joe comes bursting in the room.

"Miley can't make it. Will you go out with me tonight?"

Nick looks over from the T.V.. "What happened?"

Joe averts his eyes, clearly not happy that he has no choice but to talk to his younger brother. "She's not feeling well. Guess it was something she ate at lunch. She wants to spend the night in, but she wants me to still go out because she planned something special."

"And what's that?"

"I don't know. It's a surprise. There's a car downstairs to take us."

"Sounds dangerous."

"Don't be a sarcastic asshole."

"Fine," Nick huffs as he turns to the screen, "go by yourself, then."

"I don't want to go by myself."

"Ask someone else."

"Do you really think that I'd be here if there was someone else I wanted to go with?"

Nick latches onto that one word: wanted. He _wants_ to go with Nick. Maybe this is a peace offering of some kind.

No, he's clearly just a last resort.

"C'mon, Nick. Please just do this for me."

"Joe—"

"She planned this especially for me. I don't want to let her down."

Strangely enough, Nick doesn't want to either.

"You don't even have to get changed. Miley told me that it's casual."

"Fine," Nick sighs, heaving himself up, "I'll go."

The surprise turns out to be Nick's worst nightmare. "Fenway Park," he gasps as the car drops them off. "She sent us to a Red Sox game?"

"Well, she knows that I like baseball."

"You like the _Yankees_. The Red Sox are our biggest rivals."

"True," Joe replies, and then he starts moving for the entrance.

"Hey, what are you doing? You can't go in there."

"She got us tickets."

"So give them away to someone," Nick argues. "There are plenty of people who'd go."

"But all of the people who are here already have tickets."

Oh. True.

Nick continues to protest as Joe drags him over. "This is heresy. We're betraying the Yankees if we go to this game."

"Yes, I'm sure Derek Jeter is tracking our every move and can tell that we're here right now."

"We could get banned from Yankee Stadium for this."

Joe snorts. "Live a little, Nicholas. I'll make sure we have a good time."

* * *

By the time the seventh inning stretch rolls around, Nick is definitely not having a good time. The Red Sox are way ahead. The guy in the seat next to him jumps up during every at-bat, spilling his popcorn all over Nick. Joe hasn't even bought him any snacks. So he's irritated, covered in popcorn, and starving. Not a good combo.

"Can we leave now?"

"No. The game's not over yet. Miley's gonna know that we left early."

"How?"

"Well, I was planning on dropping by her room to see how she was feeling."

Nick frowns. Why didn't he think of that first? He's the smart one. He should've checked on her before they even left.

Not that Nick should even want to check on her.

"I have an idea."

"An idea for what?"

"For us _having_ to leave."

"I thought you wanted to stay?"

"But now you got me thinking about Miley."

Ugh. What has he done?

"When I say Red Sox," Joe whispers, "you say suck."

Nick's jaw drops. "Joe, we can't do that here. They're going to kill us."

"Red Sox!"

"No."

"Red Sox!"

"No."

"Red Sox!"

Oh God. He's actually going to do this.

"Suck," he mutters.

"I can't hear you," Joe yells. "Red Sox!"

"Suck!"

"Red Sox!"

"Suck!"

"Hey, get out of here," the guy next to him shouts, purposely throwing popcorn on Nick this time. "This is Fenway Park, for crying out loud."

Joe jumps up. "Yeah, and your team sucks."

"Red Sox suck," Nick adds for emphasis.

And then more people are getting involved. They're getting yelled at, and getting things thrown at them.

"Fall out," Joe yelps as they head for the aisle, ducking the cups that are being pelted at their heads. "We gotta evacuate."

"Go, go, go!"

Even as they run up the steps, Joe continues to shout. "Red Sox!"

"Suck!" Nick answers every time.

They're both red-faced and breathless as they climb into a taxi. "I can't believe you just did that," Joe laughs. "You never do that kind of stuff with me."

"I hate the Red Sox."

"You also hate attention."

"True."

Joe reaches over, pulling some popcorn out from his brother's tousled curls. "Thanks for coming, anyway. I had fun."

"Yeah, it wasn't too bad," Nick sighs. "And I'm...uh...sorry about yesterday."

"For what?"

"For being an ass."

Joe smirks. "You weren't an ass, Nick."

"You said I was."

"Well, I lied. I was the ass," he admits. "I was just tense because my day was so hectic, and I didn't have you with me. And I figured you were still pissed at me, so it wasn't like I could come back to the room and vent to you."

He turns, looking his older brother in the eyes. "You can vent to me if you want."

Sure enough, Joe nods. "It just sucked. I got bombarded with all of this information, and I couldn't remember any of it. Even now, I'm not sure about what they were talking about. They gave me a tour of the venue, and I ended up straggling behind and getting lost. And then they gave me this whole schedule for the next two days before the first show, and it feels like I have to be everywhere at once. I need to do radio interviews and T.V. interviews. I have dance rehearsal and vocal practice. I have to do staging so they can figure out how to do the lighting, and it's like...it's like I never get a break."

"You'll get a break, Joe. It's not like they can expect you to do everything on your own."

"I know. That's why they gave me Miley. She's supposed to be helping me out because she has the most experience or something."

Nick's smile falters in the slightest. "I guess you two will be spending a lot of time together."

"She seems really cool. We had a short break today, and she played hangman with me."

"Totally your type, Joe."

"I think you'll like her too, though," he adds. "I mean, not _like_ like her. Not like you liked Bathroom Babe."

"Oh...uh...yeah. Right."

"I can't believe she didn't end up coming on the road with us. Are you sure you didn't just miss her at the meeting?"

Nick shakes his head. "Like I told you, she definitely wasn't at the pre-tour meeting. It was mandatory, so if she was coming, she wouldn't have missed it."

It was a dumb story that Nick had managed to concoct a week ago in a matter of two minutes. Luckily, Joe was gullible enough to believe it.

"We'll find someone else for you," he suggests. "Maybe Miley knows someone."

"Maybe."

"But you've still got me," Joe says, swinging an arm around Nick's shoulders. "You'll always have me."

Somehow, Nick feels like he knew that all along.

* * *

_You deserve to be sick for sending us to a Red Sox game :)_

Nick grins. He might not need Miley's number to get info on Joe anymore, but he can use it to tease her. She _should_ be punished for sending him to hell on Earth.

And he's about to send it when he finds her at the vending machine.

"Miley?"

She turns around, eyes wide, and her mouth filled with potato chips. "Oh...um...hey."

"Hey to you, too," he replies, strolling over. "What are you doing?"

"Eating."

"I thought you were sick?"

"I was," she replies. "I guess you're not aware that chips are the cure for everything."

Nick grins. "No, I guess not. They don't happen to cure a broken heart, do they?"

"A broken heart?"

"Yeah, you see, _someone_ thought it'd be funny to send me and my brother to a Red Sox game."

"Oh, and it broke your little Yankee heart, did it?"

"Absolutely shattered it."

Smiling, she offers him the bag. "You'll definitely be needing these then."

He takes a handful. "These better work. Otherwise, our friendship is officially terminated."

"Wait," Miley says, "we're friends now?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I thought we were. You know, after everything that happened today."

"Right. Okay."

"Okay," he replies. "And since we're going to be friends, I'm going to have to educate you on my brother. I don't even know why you wanted to take Joe to a Red Sox game—"

"I was never planning on going. I thought it'd be good for you two."

Nick freezes. "You _purposely_ wanted Joe and I to go to a Red Sox game?"

She shrugs. "You guys were fighting. I thought uniting against a common enemy would fix things."

"It did."

"So you're going to stay?"

Then, it clicks. It all makes sense. "Wait. You did this because you didn't want me to—"

"Where is that brother of yours anyway?"

"Oh." Nick frowns. "Um...my dad asked him to stop by his room. They had to talk about something."

"So I should get to my room before he figures out that I'm not really sick."

"You're gonna _go_?"

"I kinda have to," she answers. "Keep the chips for me, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

Miley's just a few steps away when she turns around. "Hey, I meant to tell you. I painted my nails in honor of your favorite team."

"That's it," he says once he catches a glimpse of the red color on her fingers. "Friendship terminated."

"No, Nick," Miley replies. "We're only getting started."

* * *

**Hey, everyone! Sorry (again) for the lack of update. I just had a couple of complications, but it's all good now. I also wanted to thank you guys for the huge response on the last chapter. I was completely overwhelmed. I think I replied to all of the reviews, but if I missed yours, let me know :)**


	5. Toronto, Ontario

"I can't believe that we have all this prep work to do for the show tomorrow, and instead they have me here babysitting you."

Nick cringes. "It's not babysitting. It's supervising."

"I shouldn't even _have_ to supervise you. You're eighteen and a half."

"It's not like I asked you to do this."

"I know. Your father did." Miley huffs and looks up from the papers scattered in front of her. "God forbid he gives you a little independence."

Nick wonders why he ever thought that this was a good idea. At first, he was upset when his dad wouldn't let him tag along with Joe. Then, he was excited when he found out that Miley would be keeping him entertained. Apparently, she didn't feel the same.

"I'm independ—"

"Look, how about you go order something from room service?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Then, order something from pay-per-view."

"_Miley_."

"_Baby Jonas_."

He groans. "Fine," he retorts, getting up from the table. "I'll go watch T.V. then. Obviously you're just trying to get rid of me."

"Nick, I have work to do."

"This is part of your job."

"No, it's not. Babysitting is nowhere in my job description."

"It's _not_ babysitting."

"It is." Her lips press into a firm line as she stares up at him. "Look, I know that you're used to having constant attention, but I honestly can't give that to you right now. Give me some time, and then we can do whatever you want."

"Yeah, sure."

"Thank you."

And then her eyes dart right back to her paperwork.

Silently, Nick shuffles off to her bedroom. He'll just have to crash in there until Miley decides that she actually _wants_ to spend time with him.

He doesn't get it though. Wasn't she making it more than obvious that she wanted to be around him? She sought him out on the plane to Boston. She gave him her number. She even made sure that he didn't fly back home.

So what changed? How did they go from that, to her giving him the silent treatment?

Well, not the silent treatment. Just the non-flirting treatment.

Because she _was_ flirting with him. Nick is fully aware of what flirting is, and he's more than a hundred percent sure that that's what was going on between them. Even though she does claim that she likes Joe. Or at least that she finds him attractive.

Awkward.

Maybe he _is_ reading her wrong. If you liked a guy, would you go up to him and tell him that you thought his brother was hot?

Unless she's trying to play the jealous card. Yes, that could be it. She wants to rile Nick up and make him act on what's going on between them. She's too scared to do it herself.

Except Miley doesn't seem the type to be too afraid to make the first move.

The first move could've been giving him her number. Nick then took the initiative in texting her. And they _have_ been texting daily.

Why the fuck are girls so confusing? Can someone please write a handbook about them and send him a copy ASAP?

"Hey."

"Hi," he murmurs, turning around to face her. "What are you doing?"

"I came to get you. You were right. It's part of my job now, _apparently_, to keep an eye on you, and I can't do that if you're in another room. Besides, I don't want you to snoop through my stuff."

"I wasn't snooping."

"I know. You're just standing there, staring at nothing."

"I was thinking."

"About...?"

About how badly he wants to figure her out, to figure them out.

He shrugs. "Nothing, I guess."

She steps back and nods towards the other room. "C'mon. You can sit with me for a bit. I should be done soon and then we'll go for a walk."

"Really?"

"Jeez. Don't get so excited."

"Sorry for looking forward to—"

"—Spending time with me?"

"Getting out of the hotel," he says, even though her answer is more along the lines of what he was thinking.

Nick follows her back to the table. He sits across from her, and she pushes over a few sheets of blank paper and a pen. "You can draw if you want."

"Joe's more of an artist than I am."

"He's a hangman champion, too."

"Yeah, I heard about that."

"Well, now I'd like to hear some silence."

"You can't hear silence. That's, like, an oxymoron or something."

"Nick," she says with a smile, "shh."

Chuckling, he lowers his eyes. So they're fine then. He was just overanalyzing. She _does_ like being around him. In fact, she might even like him period.

Maybe he could find out later. They could grab a cup of coffee and sit outside at a quiet, little cafe. He'd show her that he's capable of having a mature and adult-like conversation. Because he is an adult. He's not Baby Jonas.

"Nick."

He blinks. "Did I do something?"

"You were humming."

"Really?" he asks, lifting his fingers to his lips.

"You were until I interrupted you. Didn't I ask you to be quiet?"

"Mhm. Sorry."

He's not so sure that you can be sorry for something that you didn't know that you were doing. It's not like he goes around humming everywhere. At least, not lately.

"What did it sound like?"

Miley looks up again. "What did what sound like?"

"The song that I was humming. Did you recognize it?"

"No, I didn't recognize it," she deadpans. "I thought it was something new."

Something new.

Her phone starts buzzing on the table, making them jump. But she composes herself quickly and answers the call not a second later. "Miley Stewart," she chirps into the receiver.

Nick watches her go into full business-mode. Her pen flies across the pad of paper, writing down a couple of notes. "Yes. Yes, of course," she says. "I understand completely."

And as soon as it started, the call ends.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"No. Everything's falling apart." Miley gathers her papers, stuffing them into their folders. "This is what happens when they make me stay back. They should just let me do my job because I'm clearly the only one who can do it right."

"What happened?"

"It's not about what happened. It's about what's _going to_ happen if I don't get to the venue in the next ten minutes. The show's going to be a disaster."

Oh. She's leaving.

Miley rushes over to the door and slips on her heels. "Well, come on," she says, heaving the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

Nick blinks. "Are you talking to me?"

"Who else would I be talking to, Nick? It's not like I'm going to leave you here."

"I thought they might be sending someone else."

"I wouldn't trust someone else with you. Now, let's go."

* * *

It's chaos backstage. There are people running around with headsets. There are racks of clothing being pushed in all directions. Nick almost gets into a head-on collision with a guy carrying a bass guitar.

"Stay with me, Nick," Miley says, gripping his wrist. "I don't want to lose you."

He notices the black color on her nails. It's as if she woke up and knew that today would be a bad day.

He makes it his job to help her. He offers his opinion when she asks about the lighting. He stands in for Joe when they have to do staging. Miley even lets him out of her sight long enough to distract his father when he arrives.

"Everything's great," Nick says once his dad and Joe walk through the entryway. "Miley's doing a great job."

Kevin Sr. frowns. "The two of you aren't even supposed to be here."

"Well...uh...we are. They called her in."

"I told her she was on babysitting duty."

Nick huffs. "Dad, that's not exactly part of her job description."

"Her job is to do as she's told."

"I think you should cut her some slack. This place would be a mess if it wasn't for her."

"I think I'll decide that for myself."

No. _No_, he can't go now. Not when he's in a bad mood. Not when he's going to be a complete dick.

But his brother grabs onto his shoulder before he has a chance to stop him. "Just let him go, Nick. It's not going to change anything now."

"I was supposed to make sure that he was calm when he got here. I didn't mean to rile him up."

"He wasn't calm. He's been like this all day."

"Why?"

Joe sighs and starts off towards the dressing room. "He may have found out about Miley's history."

Nick gulps. "You mean that she—"

"You know what I'm talking about. You don't have to ask."

"But how did he—? You didn't _say_ anything, did you?"

"Yeah, Nick. That's exactly what I did. I walked right up to him and said, 'Hey, Dad. Did you know that Miley sleeps around with the guys on tour?' I'm not that stupid."

"Then what happened?"

They duck inside Joe's room. "We were in the car last night, and one of the guys made a comment asking if I got any from Miley yet."

"He asked that in front of Dad?"

"Mhm. And of course when Dad demanded to know what he was referring to, he gave him Miley's entire background."

"But he's letting her stay?"

"Well, he doesn't exactly have the right to fire her. She doesn't work directly for him. But he could definitely pull some strings and make it happen if he wanted to."

Nick licks his lips and tries to make his next few words come out as casually as possible. "Do you think he wants to?"

"He _did_. I talked him out of it, though."

"Oh. Good."

"At the same time," Joe continues, "I totally ruined any chance of us actually getting together. He made me swear that I'd stay away from her."

It's the best thing that Nick's heard all day. If his brother is banned from seeing Miley, there's no way that they can be together. That means Miley is free for the taking. He'll have her all to himself.

And he's over the moon ecstatic until another thought pops into his head.

"What about me?"

Joe grins. "Don't worry, Nick. You and I can still be together."

"That's not what I meant."

"Dude, he doesn't care about you being around Miley. Why do you think he had her with you and not me?"

"Well—"

"Obviously he knows that you'll be able to control yourself around her if she ever considered making a move. Not that she will or anything."

"Why not?"

"You're a kid, Nick."

"No, I'm not."

"I didn't mean it like that," Joe says. "You're a teenager. Do you honestly think she'd ever consider you after all the guys she's been with?"

Nick shrugs. "I just don't think that Dad should treat me any different just because I'm younger."

"He's doing it to protect you. He's still convinced that you'll wait, even if Kev and I didn't. You're his last hope."

"So he's keeping me around Miley because he thinks you'll sleep with her before I will?"

"Nick, you're not going to sleep with anyone. That's just not who you are. You're going to wait until you're in love with someone, and they're in love with you. You're not going to fall in love with Miley, or anyone for that matter, on tour."

Well, Joe's right. That _is_ who he is. Unlike his character Nick Lucas from that ridiculous show Disney Channel made them do, Nick Jonas does not fall too hard, too fast for anyone. He's cautious and careful. He's like that with everything.

"I think—"

"Maybe Miley will come out with us tonight. I'll have one last shot with her. Dad will never know."

"Joe! You can't do that."

"What do you mean?"

"She's a person. She's not some object that you can use for a night."

"I wasn't planning on using her."

"You know that you can't be with her either. So what are you going to do? Make out with her, and then pretend the next day that nothing happened?"

His brother snickers. "We'd probably do more than make out."

"Cut it out," Nick says, shoving Joe's arm.

Joe steps back. "What's with you? I was just joking."

"You weren't."

"What do you care, Nick? Do you like her?"

"No. I don't."

"You're right. You _like_, like her."

Nick rolls his eyes and turns away. "_Like_, like her? What are we, middle schoolers?"

"You're not denying it."

"I already did. I said that I don't like her."

"I can't believe you moved on this fast from Bathroom Babe."

"Shut up, Joe," Nick hisses, lunging for him. Joe ducks out of the way. "Lower your voice and stop trying to cause trouble."

"You like her," Joe teases again.

"I don't like her!"

* * *

Nick likes her.

He didn't want to admit it. Not to himself. Not to anyone else.

He can't deny it anymore.

They're out at a club a few blocks away from their hotel, celebrating the success of Joe's show. Nick, naturally, didn't want to go. But Joe had persuaded Miley to go, and he couldn't stop thinking about his earlier conversation with his brother. How tonight would be his one last shot to be with her.

That's not going to happen as long as Nick's around.

What he hadn't counted on, though, was Miley wanting to be around Joe. She's been attached to him all night, like some kind of extra appendage on his body. And Joe's obviously enjoying it. His hands are all over her. He keeps brushing her hair away from her eyes and leaning in to her ear. It's not fair.

Nick takes another sip of his Jack and Diet Coke as his brother dips closer to her again. He doesn't want to watch, but he knows that he won't be able to tear his eyes away for long.

It's weird. For some reason, Joe being with Miley hurts even more than when he was with Camilla. Nick had been talking about her for years. Then, she appeared in their music video, and Joe swooped in. Of course, Joe had followed bro code and asked if Nick was cool with it.

Nick had to say yes. He knew he didn't stand a chance. He was only sixteen then.

Sure, he's only eighteen and a half now, but it's different. He could be with Miley. He knows that he could.

He could _have_. But after tonight, after she's really been with Joe, his chance will be gone. That's one rule of the bro code that can never be broken. You can't hook up with a girl that your brother has been with.

Downing the rest of his drink, Nick's eyes drift to the dance floor. Well, what's so special about Miley anyway? There are plenty of girls out there that he could get with. There are girls everywhere who would want to be with him. If Miley's too dumb to see how great he is, then screw her. Let her be with Joe. Let her have one night with him. Then, she'll have to spend all of tour wallowing in self-pity, devastated that she chose the wrong brother.

Nick's not going to have any regrets. He's going to do whatever he wants with whomever he wants.

"Hey there."

And he's going to start with the blonde who's just walked up to him.

* * *

Miley's had enough. She's tired of hanging around. She wants to have fun. And it's not like Joe isn't a good time. He's just too...much.

One of his hands has not so discreetly slipped down to her thigh, toying with the hem of her dress. He keeps touching her hair, too. Whispering in her ear about how she's the hottest girl in this place. How he can't take his hands off her.

It's not like she didn't notice that on her own.

She also noticed Nick sitting alone in his booth, downing drink after drink. Miley was surprised that he was so eager to go out with the group. She was even more surprised that he's basically getting hammered.

And now, Miley is noticing this girl who's gone up to Nick with her bleach blonde hair and super tight, super short, leaving nothing to the imagination, black dress.

She leans into Joe. "Your brother," she says, nodding in his direction.

Joe glances over and smiles. "Looks like he's making a new friend."

"She seems a little too friendly."

"So what? He's single. He can have a good time if he wants."

"But he's drunk."

"He's not."

"Joe, I've been keeping an eye on him. He's been—"

He recoils. "Why have you been watching Nick?"

"Because that's been my job all day," she counters. "Your dad made me babysit him earlier, so it's just a habit now."

"Nick can take care of himself."

"He can't." Miley glances over at him again, huffing as the girl tugs on Nick's arm. "Joe, you can't let him leave with her. What if something happens?"

"He's not going anywhere."

"But she's pulling him up. He's going to leave, and—and..." She pauses, trying to come up with some reason to convince Joe to help her. "And your dad is going to freak out."

Joe swallows. "If he finds out that I let Nick get wasted...that I let him go with a girl..."

"Then help me."

He leads the way. He makes a beeline through the crowd with Miley right on his heels. "Hey," he says, tugging on Nick's shirt, "why don't you sit down?"

"But I wanna—"

"Yeah," the girl says, "he wants to."

"He doesn't," Miley argues as she steps between them. "Get out of here. We're taking him home."

The girl moves back. "Bitch," she calls over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

Miley couldn't care less.

Joe leans Nick against him. "I think we really do need to take him home. He can't even stand on his own."

"I'll take him."

"But he's my brother."

"And _you're_ going to get in trouble if your dad finds out." She swings Nick's arm around her shoulders. "You stay and enjoy the night. I'll bring Nick back to your room. If your dad catches us, I'll take the fall."

"I can't let you do that."

"I can't let you do it, either. Trust me. I'll take care of him."

Joe sighs. "His room key is in his pocket."

"All right. Don't worry. I've got him."

She has to drag Nick along with her outside. His full weight on her body makes it impossible to walk right. "So warm," he mumbles as she waves a cab over.

"I know you're warm," she says. "We'll cool you down in a minute."

Miley tugs him in the back seat. After giving the driver the hotel address, she reaches over to open the windows. Then, she tries to lay Nick down.

"No."

"What's no?"

"I don't wanna lay in your lap. M'not a baby."

"I never said that you were a baby."

"You call me Baby Jonas."

"It's a joke."

"It's not funny."

"Relax." She reaches for his blazer and tugs the material off his arms. "Come on," she says as she folds her legs and sets the jacket on her lap. "Just lay down and talk to me."

"I don't want to lay down."

"It's not an option." Miley can feel him give in as she guides him down. "There. Isn't that better."

He squeezes his eyes shut. "No."

"Look, I know that you're not a baby. You're eighteen and a half."

"Everyone treats me like a baby. I'm a grown up. I don't have to be watched."

"If you're still upset over that babysitting comment I made, I didn't mean it."

"I can take care of myself," he argues.

"Okay."

"You didn't have to make me leave. There was a girl there, and she wanted to dance with me."

Miley sighs. "I bet that's not all that she wanted to do with you."

"She said that she knew I was a real man. I could've even proven it to her if I wanted."

"Exactly."

"Exactly what?"

She looks down at him, now finding his eyes wide open and focused on her. "I figured that she was looking for something from you."

"So?"

"So, you honestly expected that Joe and I would let you go off with someone like her?"

"Yes."

"You're so stupid, Nick," she says, leaning back against the headrest. "That's why we can't let you take care of yourself."

"I can do what I want. You don't own me."

"I'm in charge of you. That's part of my job." The cab slowly comes to a stop. Miley pays the driver and opens the door. "Let's go. Up and at 'em."

"No."

"Yes, Nick. We're at the hotel."

"You can go in the hotel. I'm going back to the club."

"You're not."

"I am."

"It's not up for discussion. I need to get you up to your room."

"You don't. I'm making my own decisions."

"Fine," she huffs, pushing him off her. "You want to be a big boy? Go right ahead. Spend the night at the club if you want to."

Nick frowns as she climbs outside. "Stop yelling."

"Well, that's what happens when you piss me off."

"You're giving me a headache."

"I don't care. I'm done arguing with you."

She slams the door shut. She watches as Nick looks to the driver and then looks back to her. He pulls at the door handle. It doesn't open. So he leans through the window. "Help me?"

"Yeah," she murmurs, "I'll help you."

Miley manages to get him out of the cab. And through the lobby. And into the elevator. Nick presses up against her, resting his head on her shoulder as she brushes her fingers through his hair. "M'sorry."

"For...?"

"For yelling at you," he says as they get out at their floor. "And for saying that I wasn't a baby."

She smiles. "It's okay, Nick."

Miley takes the key from his blazer pocket and opens the door to the suite. She guides Nick through to his room. Laying him down on the bed, she reaches down to take off his shoes. "You okay?"

"Mhm."

"I'll be right back. Don't move."

She heads into his bathroom. Miley fills up a glass of water and then ducks back to the bedroom. By the time she gets there, Nick is snoring.

Grinning, she sets the glass on the dresser. But the smile fades as she looks over the figure on the mattress. Limbs spread all over the place, taking up almost the entire bed. Dressed up in a shirt and tie and slacks. All grown up and mature and handsome.

It's then that she realizes what she's been trying to deny all this time. That Baby Jonas really isn't a baby after all.


	6. Chicago, Illinois

"So on a scale from one to you tripping in front of millions on the AMA's, how badly did I embarrass myself the other night?"

Joe rolls his eyes. "Just for that, I'm not telling you."

"Oh, come on," Nick pouts. "I'm not asking for details. I only want to know how bad I was."

"Maybe I _should_ tell you the details."

"No. No, I don't want to know."

His brother laughs. "Nick, if you don't remember what happened, why are you so convinced that something _bad_ happened?"

"Well, I've never heard of anything good coming from getting drunk."

"Dude, you really weren't that bad. It's not like you caused a whole scene. I didn't even realize you were shit-faced until Miley pointed it out."

Miley.

Nick hasn't been able to face her since they left Toronto. He hasn't been able to call or text her either. There's a weird feeling that starts in his stomach and expands to the rest of his body whenever he thinks of her. _That's_ how he knows that something bad happened.

"Hey, Nick?" Joe says, snapping his fingers in front of his brother's face. "Anybody home?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Sorry." Nick shakes his head. "Did I say something to her?"

"Not while I was there."

"What do you mean, not while you were there?"

"I thought you didn't want to know the details?"

"Not all of them. Only the ones that I'm asking about."

Joe sighs. "You left with Miley. I was going to take you back to the hotel myself, but she volunteered to. She said that I should stay out and have fun. Besides, she pointed out that it would be better if she got caught with you than me."

Nick groans. "How would that have been better? You said that Dad wanted to fire her. She definitely would've been gone if he found out that she was with us and that I was drunk."

"I guess he didn't find out then."

"Obviously not." He folds his arms over his chest. "I can't believe how selfish you were. You were honestly going to let Miley take the fall for you."

"For me?" Joe snaps. "It's not like I was shoving drinks down your throat. She was covering your ass."

_Oh_. Well, he hadn't thought about it that way. He's used to pinning the guilt on Joe.

"You should probably apologize to her, but that should go without saying."

"If it goes without saying," Nick replies, "then you shouldn't say it."

"I clearly had to because you're still here."

"Where do you expect me to go?"

"To Miley's room," Joe elaborates. "You know, to apologize."

Nick's stomach churns. "Can't do that."

"You almost got her fired."

"But I didn't."

"But you _could_ have."

"It doesn't matter," he argues, his heart pumping erratically. "It didn't happen."

"Nick, man up and go talk to her. Besides, if you want what happened, you're better off asking her."

He knows his brother is right. He'll have to go to Miley. He does owe her a thank you, anyway.

So with that all too familiar queasy feeling, he walks down the hall to her room and knocks on the door.

"Coming," he hears her shout. Her feet pound against the floor as she runs, and then she's in front of him. "Oh, hey."

"Hi."

"Haven't seen you in a while. I thought you might be avoiding me."

"Avoiding you?" he jokes. "Never."

What he was really doing these past two days was hiding and sneaking around so that they wouldn't run into each other. But that's different than avoiding someone, right? Right.

"So did you need something?"

"I...um...just wanted to talk—"

She sighs. "About Toronto?"

"Possibly... If you're busy, we can totally do this another time."

"No. Come on in."

He exhales loudly once the door is shut behind him. So this is it. There's no turning back now.

"You're gonna have to excuse my appearance," she says as she gestures at her messy updo and sweats. "I just want to relax before the show tonight."

"I think you look fine."

"_Fine_? Wow, thanks for the compliment, Nick."

He smirks. "I was trying to be nice."

"You might want to get some new material, then." She laughs. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"If you have, like, ginger ale or Sprite or something, that'd be good."

"Do you feel okay?"

"I'm just a little...um..." His voice drifts off as he pats his stomach.

Miley closes the fridge. "You really _were_ avoiding me, weren't you?"

"Well, it's just that I know something happened that night we went to the club."

"What are you talking about?"

Nick sighs. "I'm not sure. I don't remember entirely what happened."

Her eyes lighten. "Nothing happened, Nick," she answers. "You got a little wasted, and I took you home. That's all."

"I know it wasn't that simple."

"It was."

"It wasn't."

"Don't argue with me."

"I just want to know—"

"I told you."

"You gave me the extremely abridged version."

"Because there's nothing to tell." Miley's hands fly to her hips. "What do you want? An entire play-by-play?"

"Yes," he says, sitting on the couch. "Tell me everything."

He doesn't really want to hear everything. Apparently, with Miley though, it's either all or nothing.

She makes her way over, planting herself right across from him. "You were drinking in a booth all night. You were completely antisocial."

"What else?"

"Some girl came up to you and tried to get you to leave with her. Joe and I stepped in, and that's when we decided that it would be better to get you out of there."

"So I left with you."

Miley nods. "We took a five minute cab ride back to the hotel. I brought you to your room, got you in bed, and you were sound asleep."

"And that's it?"

"That's it."

He doesn't buy it. "Did I do something embarrassing?"

"I mean, you were whining a lot in the taxi. And then you threw a fit on how you were going to go back to the club by yourself."

"Anything...worse?"

"No."

"I didn't, like, throw up on you?"

She laughs. "You didn't throw up on me. Trust me. I would've told you if you did, and I would've made you pay for my dry cleaning, too."

Nick grins, but he still has that uneasy feeling. "Did I say anything—?"

"You were fine," she reassures him. "Honestly, you didn't do or say anything that was out of line."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

His nerves don't go away. Nick doesn't get it. If she just told him that nothing happened, then nothing happened. It's not like she would lie to him.

Miley frowns. "You don't believe me."

"I just—"

"Nick, I told you everything. What possibly could've happened that I'd keep from you?"

"I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"Well, do you remember anything else?"

"No," he admits. "Just sitting in the booth and drinking."

"Then get over it before I start making up stories."

"You wouldn't dare."

She giggles. "Wait, did I forget to mention the strip tease that you did on top of the bar?"

"Shut up. That's not funny."

"It is to me."

"Whatever. Have fun at my expense. Consider it my thank-you gift."

"What are you thanking me for?"

"For taking me home and for protecting Joe. It wasn't his fault or anything, but he still would've gotten in trouble if my dad found out."

"I know. That's why I left with you."

"But it could've been worse if he caught us together. You know that, don't you?"

She shrugs. "I just considered it to be part of my job."

"It's part of your job to go to a club with the people you work for?"

"No," she retorts. "It's my job to make sure that you're taken care of. Who else would've looked out for you?"

"Joe."

"Joe didn't even realize that you were drunk. You would've left with that girl, and he wouldn't have noticed."

"Well," he counters, "I guess that I was _lucky_ that you were there to watch me."

"That's why I'm your babysitter."

"You're not my babysitter."

"All right, Nick. Whatever you say."

Nick huffs. "How about next time you don't even come out with us? You can stay in the hotel."

"_You_ can't go out anymore," Miley argues. "The drinking age is twenty-one, so until we get to the European leg of the tour, _you're_ the one who's stuck staying back."

"You have to, too, since you enjoy babysitting me so much."

"I don't enjoy it."

"You enjoy keeping an eye on me at clubs."

"Oh, grow up, Nick."

And here they go again. He tries being nice, and it ends up backfiring in his face.

"Hey," she says as he moves for the door, "Nick, c'mon. Don't leave."

He doesn't care if it's childish. He slams the door behind him as he leaves.

* * *

The best part about hanging out backstage is that his dad's there. If his dad's around, then that means Joe is. It also means that Miley is as far away as possible.

He wonders why their relationship is so up and down all the time. How the laughter so easily dissolves into screaming voices and empty threats. How one minute she's trying to make him happy and the next she's tearing him apart.

What Nick wonders most about is why he keeps chasing her.

"Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. Hundred!"

Nick turns around as his brother finishes up the last of his push-ups, part of his pre-show ritual. "You okay?" he asks.

"I'm pumped. Let's do this already."

They both grin as the crowd begins screaming. "Sounds like they're ready for you, bro."

"I'm ready for them, too." He throws his arms around Nick, pulling him into his sweaty frame. "You're gonna watch, right?"

"I'll be right here, Joe. Just like I am every night."

"Good."

Nick claps his brother's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, you know that."

"Yeah, I know." As the lights go out over the audience, Joe pulls back. "Catch you on the flip side."

He's still laughing when Joe walks onto the stage. The thunderous applause rises to a crescendo, accompanied by catcalls and high-pitched screeches. Nick feels his heart swell with pride, the feeling rapidly circulating through every inch of his body.

Until he realizes that none of it is for him. They're all cheering for his brother.

Nick hasn't gotten used to it yet. Joe's played a handful of shows, and each time, it's Nick who's standing aside. He hides behind the curtain while he brother plays his heart out on stage. And he keeps waiting. He waits for his chance to grab a guitar or the mic.

Joe hasn't offered him the chance to. Nick's too proud to ask.

At this point, Nick would even settle for doing background vocals. Hell, he'd do anything. Except dance. He's still not sure why Joe insisted on learning choreography for this tour. He's hands-down the least coordinated of the three of them.

What Nick hates the most, though, is that Joe is covering their songs. They're mostly Nick's if he's being honest. When You Look Me In The Eyes was from his solo album. He basically wrote all of Hello Beautiful on his own. Burnin' Up was ninety-percent his idea. Yet, he's the one watching as his brother sings them for the crowd all on his own.

When he finally starts writing again, he's going to make sure his new songs are entirely in his name. He can't go through this another time. The pain of having someone steal what's yours while you stand there completely helpless hurts too much.

His father clasps his back halfway through All This Time. "You okay?" he asks.

Nick nods. "I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

He shifts his attention back to the gap between the curtains. Where he can see his brother shuffling around, all sweaty and out of breath and _happy_.

"You miss it, don't you?"

Nick sighs. "It just sucks standing here and watching when I feel like I should..."

"Be out there with him?"

"Mhm."

Or out there on his own. But performing with Joe would suffice.

"Have you started writing yet?"

"No, I've got nothing."

"Maybe it's hurting you being on the road. Nothing's inspiring you here."

"I can't leave," Nick mutters. "Joe would be hurt."

"He'd understand if it was for your career."

"It'd be selfish."

"It would," his father acquiesces. "You're really making him happy being around."

"I know." Nick steals another quick glance at the stage and then steps back. "I need to get some air. Can I go take a walk?"

"Just don't leave the building."

"I won't. Cover for me if Joe comes back here. But don't tell him that it has something to do with my levels. You know how he gets about that."

"He's protective," his dad answers with a smile. "I'll tell him you needed to take a phone call."

"Thanks."

Nick slips through the hoards of people to the doors, finding the backstage hallway devoid of any activity. He can still hear the crowd though. The sound reverberates against the walls and into his ears, noise that even his thoughts can't drown out.

He wonders if this is what it feels like to lose your sanity. To be so consumed that you can't even control your own mind.

He wants to get away, to escape from the madness. It'd be so easy. He could be L.A. bound in a matter of hours if he wanted. And he wants to. He just doesn't want to disappoint Joe. But those two things seem to go hand in hand.

"That'll be thirty-five dollars, please."

At last, the music seems to fade. Instead, he hears the sound of a female voice saturated with a Southern accent.

Miley.

He waits until the girl walks away with her brand new T-shirt before approaching. "Hey."

Miley looks up, her eyes wide in surprise. "Oh, hey. What are you doing out here?"

"Just taking a walk. What are you doing out here?"

"Well, since I'm not allowed around your brother, I've been assigned to the merch table."

"Oh."

"And it's great, in case you were wondering," she snaps. "I get to chill here and sell overpriced shirts emblazoned with your brother's face to all of his desperate fans."

"I—"

"I shouldn't even be here. It blows." Miley turns to the younger girl sitting beside her. "I don't know how you do this every night."

Nick winces. The venom of her words burns. And even though he knows it's directed towards his father, he still thinks that this is his fault somehow.

"Are you allowed to take a break? I'm getting some air, and you look like you could use some, too."

Miley huffs and looks again to the other girl. "Will you be okay if I take five?"

She nods, and Miley gets up. She starts heading to the doors, but Nick stops her. "I can't leave the building. My dad wants me to stay inside."

"Of course he does." She groans again, raking a hand through her hair. "Where to then?"

"We can head backstage."

"But I don't want anyone to see—"

"It's fine. It's empty back there."

They fall into step, walking through the hallways until the music gets too loud for Nick to handle. Miley feels him stop. Her eyes scan him once before she offers him a smile. "It's hard for you, isn't it?"

"It's getting harder. I thought that I'd be better by now, but with each show I just get reminded more and more of how much I want to be the one singing. How I should be the one up there, performing my songs—"

"And selling shirts with your face all over them?"

Nick grins. "Would you buy one?"

"Of course. I'd love to wear the latest from the Nick Jonas fashion line."

"It's very high-end, you know."

"I know, but I have expensive taste anyway, so it'd work out."

He laughs, leaning against the wall across from her. "It's hard for you, too. Doing stupid shit when you should really be more involved."

"Yeah. I'm not going to give in to it, though. They could tell me that I have to scrub the toilets, and I still wouldn't leave."

"You want to be here that badly?"

"It's my job. It's what I love."

"And you'd love cleaning toilets?"

"No," she admits. "I love everything else, though. Traveling and doing promo and...the music. That's the best part. It always is."

"Really? Because, personally, I can't get enough of Joe's dancing."

Miley throws her head back in laughter. "Your brother has the worst sense of rhythm ever. Honestly, he's so bad."

And this, this is why Nick keeps getting drawn back to her. It's so easy being around her. It's what makes the uphill climb worth it each time they crash down.

"Hey," he murmurs, "I'm sorry about last night...and for before. When we were in your room and I was harassing you."

"You weren't harassing me. You were just asking questions. I was the one who snapped."

"Because of me."

"Because..." She sighs. "Let's just agree that it was a stupid fight, and that we're both over it."

"I'm over it."

"Me too."

A stagehand comes from around the corner, tugging at his headset as he shoots them a look. They watch as he goes. And as Miley's eyes stay in his direction, Nick turns around to see if they'll be interrupted again.

"He's probably checking to make sure the area's all clear," he says after a moment or two. "Joe'll be doing his encore soon, and then we'll have to leave."

"Right. I should probably go anyway. The merch booth usually gets mobbed at the end of the show."

"I won't see you at the hotel, then?"

She shakes her head. "I'll be stuck here for a while. I'm sure we'll pass each other in the morning at some point."

"Yeah, at breakfast or something."

"Exactly."

"Okay." He rocks up on his toes. "See you tomorrow, then."

He's barely a few steps away when she calls his name. Turning, he finds her standing in the middle of the hallway, her gaze anxiously darting around them. "About the other night—in Toronto—you were right."

If there's anything that Nick loves to hear, it's that he's right. He just doesn't have any clue what he was right about.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"About something happening."

His face flushes. "Oh. What—what did I do?"

"Nothing. Nick, you did nothing. I just left something out when I told you the story."

"I knew it. I _knew_ that you were hiding something. And you _lied_ to me."

She rolls her eyes. "I didn't _lie_. Everything that I said, happened. It's only that I—"

"_You_ did something?"

This is even better than he thought.

"I did something. Well, I almost did something."

"Tell me," he says with a grin. "I bet it's a good story. I can tell that it's a good story."

"It's really not."

"Just _tell_ me."

"I almost kissed you."

Nick draws back. Okay. So that would explain why he was feeling weird around her before. She almost _kissed_ him. And he forgot but remembered all at the same time.

"I don't know what happened," she says. "I got you into your bed and went to get you a glass of water. I came back and you were just...laying there. Something went off in my head. I sat down next to you, leaned over—"

"And...?" he prods.

"And you woke up. Your eyes flew open. I jumped back, and you mumbled something. And then you fell back asleep."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Miley licks her lips. "I thought you remembered. When you were avoiding me, I thought you remembered what happened and it creeped you out. And then you showed up at my room."

"I didn't know. I mean, I figured something happened. But that...that wasn't even a possibility."

"It's still not. It was just a spur of the moment kind of thing. I was a little drunk, so I obviously wasn't thinking straight."

"Obviously," he repeats. Nick fights to keep his eyes on hers as he opens his mouth again. "You could've told me before."

"I was scared, I guess. I didn't know how you'd react."

"Well, I'm still here."

She nods. "Good. I'm glad you are."

"And if you...if you still wanted to kiss me, I'd still be here."

Miley swallows, her skin turning just a light hue of pink. "I'm not going to do that, Nick. I'm just...no."

Her hesitation only encourages him. "Would you let me?" he asks, stepping closer. "If I wanted to kiss you, would you let me?"

"No."

"Just once? Just one time to make up for Toronto?"

Her mouth tilts up to catch his. It's a brief, barely there brushing of lips. It's enough to feel. It's enough to change everything.

Nick pulls back. His nose nudges hers, trying to stay close. Wanting to get closer. Needing to feel her again.

"I'd let you," she suddenly breathes out. "If you wanted to kiss me again, I'd let you."

His hands cup her face, connecting them again before either one of them has a chance to second guess themselves. Not that they should. _Because_, he thinks, _something that feels this right, shouldn't be wrong._

He kisses her slow again. Her lips caress his just as gently, trying to savor it. They both know that this could easily be the first and last time they're ever like this.

Miley's hands reach for his chest. He inhales sharply as they drift down past his ribs and stomach. They move for his jeans, targeting and tugging on his belt loops, pulling his hips to hers. It's overwhelming. The taste and scent and feel of her all at once.

Nick takes one deep breath in before pressing his mouth to the corner of hers. He feels her smile beneath his lips, and it only makes his heart pump harder. He sponges a line down her jaw and neck, stopping to suck lightly at her collarbone.

She arches her back, pressing into him even more. He sighs in blissful contentment, and then again as her hands leave his hips and reach for his own, pulling them to her waist. It's only then that he realizes that his arms were just hanging at his sides, too consumed with everything else to touch her on his own.

He's going to now. He rucks up the back of her shirt as her lips claim his again. Her skin is all warm and soft and smooth. And Nick won't be able to resist her anymore. He'll want to have her like this all the time, for as long as he can. As long as she'll let him.

Miley suddenly leans back with a gasp. "Someone's coming."

"Who?" he asks, voice all panicky as he glances over his shoulder.

"I don't know." She pulls her shirt back down. "I have to go. We _both_ have to go."

"But this—"

"This stays between us."

"So it's not over?"

Miley pushes up on her toes, kissing him one more time if only to keep herself satisfied until the next time. "Go," she says. "We'll see each other tomorrow."

So Nick goes. He rushes around the corner, moving for the stage. The music once more seeping through his head.

It's when he's at the stage doors that he realizes that it's not Joe's music he's hearing. It's the notes that have been clashing around in his brain, now in perfect harmony. The flats and sharps and chords all together in one beautiful and unexpected symphony.

And, he realizes almost simultaneously, it's all because of Miley.


	7. Minneapolis, Minnesota

Nick usually prefers being on top, but the view of Miley on his lap is pretty spectacular.

She's sitting there in her purple bra with her hair pulled up away from her face. She's laughing and smiling, like it's totally normal for them to be like this.

"So I came up with a new nickname for you."

Nick pushes up on his elbows, all too intrigued. "Oh, really?"

"Yep. You have to promise not to laugh though."

"Is it a stupid nickname?"

"No, it's cute," she says, pushing him back down. "I just have to tell you a little backstory as to how I came up with it, and I don't want you to make fun of me."

"I would never make fun of you."

"You can't tell anyone, either."

"Who would I—" As Miley flashes her wide eyes at him, Nick knows that there isn't any argument to convince her. Instead, he pretends to lock up his mouth and throw away the key.

"Okay," she says, relaxing, "so I've never told anyone this before, but the reason that I wanted to work in the music industry is the Backstreet Boys."

"The Backstr—"

"_Nick_."

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he replies, trying his best not to smirk. "I'll be quiet."

"Thank you. Anyway, while most girls liked Brian Littrell or Nick Carter, my favorite was A.J. McLean. I'd go to their concerts and be completely mesmerized. I just loved watching him perform. I thought he was so cool."

"Why?"

She shrugs. "There was just something about him, I guess. So that's why I've decided to call you N.J. from now on."

"No more Baby Jonas then?"

"Nope," Miley says with a smile. "I don't have a thing for little boys."

"I'm not a little boy."

"I know. I'm not planning on treating you like one either. Only like the man that you really are."

"Oh." Nick inhales deep, tries to keep his breathing steady as she starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Okay."

_Yes. This is okay_, he tells himself. _Just stay calm, and don't freak out. Don't. Freak. Out_.

He swallows. "Does that mean I'm your favorite Jonas Brother, then?"

Miley's eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if the inspiration for my nickname came from your favorite Backstreet Boy, I guess that would make me your favorite Jonas Brother."

"I guess that would make sense."

"So am I?"

She nods, smiling hard at his enthusiasm. "You've officially converted me."

"Yes." Nick pumps his fist. "I'm awesome."

"And lame. You are so lame."

But even though she might find him lame, she leans down to kiss him. Her hands pull on his button-up, tugging the now loose material away from his body. Nick sits up. The movement gives Miley just enough room to take his shirt off completely and toss it on the carpet.

What Nick really wants is to switch positions with her. The couch doesn't lend much room for movement, though. He's pretty sure that his leg is already cramped, sore from the awkward way it's bent over the armrest. But his mind is swirling with the idea of having her beneath him, chest heaving and skin all flushed.

"Hey," she says as he tries to push up on her hips, "relax."

"But—"

"Just stay there. I'll make it worth it. Promise."

His whole body stutters under her as she nips at the delicate skin behind his ear. It was sort of a chance occurrence when Miley found the sensitive spot on Nick Jonas' body. They were supposed to be having a secret, quiet make-out session in the closet of a venue. But with the feel of her lips right there, Nick let out a whimpering sound so loud that Miley was sure that everyone would be able to hear it, even over the screams of the crowd.

She wonders how many other places there are that make him fall to pieces. On his neck. Or his shoulders. His chest and back. Places even lower that may have never even been explored. All uncharted territory just begging to be discovered. By her.

"Mmph. Wait."

Nick pushes on her hips, successful this time. He doesn't roll her over. He just awkwardly keeps her up there, a few safe inches away.

"What?" she asks. "What is it?"

He guesses that she's unaware of the effect she has on him. How the combination of her hands and mouth all over his skin is too much for him handle. How he's still learning to control his reactions to every little thing she does.

"Nick, are you okay?"

He nods. "I'm fine. Just need a minute."

Consciously or not, Miley's eyes drift down to his lap. "Oh," she gasps. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Of course, she didn't. She's not used to guys popping boners in a matter of seconds.

"It's okay. I'm fine."

"Did I...um...was it something I...?"

Nick feels himself go hot, like all the blood in his body has circulated to either his dick or his face. "You were just pushing yourself there, and..." He shuts his eyes, inhales. "I'm fine."

"Can I do something to help?"

He shakes his head. "No. No, I'm fine."

"Yeah, you keep saying that," she murmurs. "Do you want me to get off you?"

He doesn't want that. But he knows that the closer she is, the harder it is for him to function. So his hands loosen their grip and let her go.

And Nick's pretty sure that he can count on one hand the number of times that he's ever been this embarrassed in his life.

There's a sudden knock at the door. Miley tears her eyes away from Nick's at the sound. "I should get that," she says, scooping her shirt up from the floor.

"Yeah...uh...okay."

He covers his face with his hands while she walks off. God, what was he thinking in trying to get with her? Like, yeah, he might be a platinum-selling record artist, but she's so out of his league. All she has to do is look at him and he loses his shit.

So much for being a man. He's not fooling either of them.

"Oh, Joe. Hey."

Now, his brother is here. Even better.

Nick throws on his shirt, hastily trying to button it up. Once he's covered up, he rushes over to the mirror, using it as a guide while he shoves his reckless curls back into place.

"Just stopped by to get Nick—there he is."

"Hey," he says, awkwardly thrusting his hands in his pockets. "How was rehearsal?"

"Not too bad. Pretty smooth, actually." Joe grins. "How was it here?"

"Fine. Just hung out. Watched T.V."

"So you weren't too much of a handful?"

Nick scowls as Miley laughs. "He was perfectly behaved. I was even able to get some work done."

"Well, if you're free, you should come out with Nick and I."

"Where are we even going?"

"I was gonna take you to lunch, bro. Figured we could go out for some pizza."

"Okay, but Miley—"

"—Likes pizza. Right, Miley?"

"Uh, yeah," she says. "I like pizza."

"So come out with us. There's this place a couple of blocks away that's supposed to be decent."

Nick's wondering how his brother could be so dumb. "Dad's not going to like this."

"Dad's not going to find out."

"If he does, then Miley's going to get in trouble." He looks to her. "It's better if you stay here."

She narrows her eyes. "I _am_ kind of hungry."

"Great. Then, come with us."

"Yeah, Miley," Nick deadpans, "come with us if you want to get fired."

"She's not going to get fired."

"If you get caught—"

"We're _not_ going to get caught."

He huffs. "I'm not going, then. If Miley goes, I'm staying in the hotel."

"Oh, come on, Nicholas."

"No, it's okay," she says. "Let him stay back. We'll just go, Joe."

Hold up. No. That's not happening. He's trying to save her, not send her off to be slaughtered.

"I'm gonna tell Dad, then," Joe replies. "Not that you're going, Miley. Just that I'm going out to get food."

He steps back into the hall. As Nick goes to join him, Miley tugs on his sleeve. She pulls him to her, letting the door slam shut. "What the hell was that?" she demands.

"That was me trying to protect you."

"Well, don't."

"Don't?" he retorts. "So I'm supposed to let you go with Joe and get fired?"

"Okay, first off, I don't need your permission to go out with Joe. And second, we're just getting food."

"But if my dad finds out—"

"He won't."

Nick leans against the wall, completely powerless. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"Nothing will. I told you that they can't get rid of me. There's nothing that they can do to make me leave."

"Unless they don't give you a choice."

"Hey," she says, palms pressed to his chest, "I know you'd rather I stay here, but I have to go. I can't let Joe think that I'm not interested in him anymore."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Are you?"

"No, but I'm supposed to be. Everyone expects me to—"

"Forget what everyone expects you to do. Do what you want."

"I am. I'm with you, aren't I?"

"I mean, you're hooking up with me."

"Hooking up?" Miley laughs. "Nick, all you do is hover around second base."

Nick glances away. "I do not."

"You do." Her fingers curl around his jaw, directing his gaze back to her. "And it's fine. We can take our time, okay?"

"Okay." He leans in, presses his lips to hers, letting them linger there. "I'm going with you and Joe. I don't want you to be alone with him."

"I can handle it."

"I don't trust him, Miley."

"Let me take care of it, Nick."

He frowns. "You expect me to stay back on my own?"

"You already told Joe that you were. It's going to be pretty hard to explain to him that you've had a sudden change of heart."

"I'll come up with something."

"It'll take too long. Go back to your room. I'll see you tonight."

* * *

"Miley's great, bro. It's so unfair that you practically get to spend all day with her."

Nick clutches his pillow to his chest. "Yeah. She's all right, I guess."

"All right? I thought you really liked her. You even had a little crush on her."

"I didn't have a crush on her. You thought I did."

Joe shrugs. "Well, I like her."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't _like_ her," Nick says. "You're putting her job in jeopardy, Joe."

"She wants to go out with me. She could say no when I ask her to do stuff, but she says yes. I can't help that."

"You could stop asking her in the first place."

"People do crazy things for love."

"It's not love," he huffs, throwing himself back against the bed. "You just want her because of what you've heard about her."

"So what's wrong with that?" Joe asks. "It's hard being out on the road. You know that. Sometimes, you just need someone's attention."

"It doesn't have to be Miley's."

"Nick, I get that she's, like, your babysitter or whatever, but you need to chill out. It's not like I'm trying to steal her from you. We're going to have completely different relationships. You and Miley will stay friends, while me and her will be more romantic."

"But Dad—"

Joe rolls his eyes. "He's not going to know, Nick. Chill. I'm not stupid enough to flaunt her in front of him. We'll hookup in private. I'll get it in, and then get the hell out of there."

Nick feels his fists clench at his sides. He wants to punch his brother, a clean hit against his cheekbone. But then he'd have a lot of explaining to do.

"Yeah," he mumbles instead, "I guess."

His brother leaps onto the mattress, landing beside him. "It's cute how you look out for her."

"I'm looking out for you, too, Joe."

"You don't have to. We're gonna keep it casual. Getting any more involved with her would be more trouble than it's worth."

Nick knows that. He's already figuring it out firsthand.

He's starting to wonder if being with her is such a good idea after all. They've barely been together _slash_ hooking up _slash_ hovering around second base for a few days. Nick already feels knee-deep in lies and deceit.

So maybe it's better if he ends it. Cuts it off before he's dragged under.

"I was telling her about Lumberjack Days."

He blinks. "Why would you tell her about that?"

"We were just talking at lunch. I said that when we were first starting out as a group, we booked any gig we could. And one of them happened to be good, ol' Lumberjack Days here in Minnesota."

"We were so desperate back then," Nick replies with a grin. "Honestly, what were we thinking?"

"That someone would hear how good we were and want to sign us."

"Because there are so many record labels in Minnesota."

"Exactly," Joe laughs. "Feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does. Just look at us now."

Nick thinks back on the tours and albums and T.V. shows and movies that they've done since then. How so much has changed since he was a scrawny thirteen year old, singing in too high pitched of a voice and strumming a guitar too big for his arms. In a way, things feel the same, too. How unsure he is about his career. Wondering how long it'll be until he finally writes the song that gets them—gets him—noticed.

"We're gonna pay homage to it tonight when we go out. Lumberjack Days, I mean."

"Where are you going?"

"Just to a bar," Joe says. "It was Miley's idea. She thought we could all wear plaid shirts because, apparently, that's what lumberjacks wear."

"That's...weird."

"I figured you wouldn't go for it, but you'll be staying back anyway."

"Mhm. I'll be here," Nick answers. "Just be careful, all right? I don't want there to be any problems."

"There won't. I've got this."

* * *

**From: Miley**

**We have a problem**

Nick's heart has been racing since he got her text message twenty minutes ago. He tried replying to her, but wherever she was, she apparently lost service. And this is the last thing that he needs: for something to go wrong. Especially when he warned everyone about this in the first place.

Okay. He's just going to wait until she gets back. He'll find out what the issue is, fix it, and then break it off. He has to. It has to be done.

Even though, he really doesn't want to.

The suite door buzzes open. Nick rushes over, moving faster once he hears her voice call out, "Nick?"

"Yeah," he says as he gets to her. "I'm here. I'm right here."

She sighs, throwing her coat and purse onto the couch. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I totally messed up."

"What happened? Miley, you didn't even _tell_ me—"

"It was my stupid idea because of that Lumberjack Days story Joe told me. How I said that we should all wear plaid shirts."

"Okay," Nick replies, "you're upset because of what you wore out?"

Miley groans. "Does any part of my outfit look familiar to you?"

It takes him a second. That's all he needs before he figures it out. "My shirt," he says, tugging on the material wrapped around her torso. "You're wearing my shirt."

"I didn't even realize it was yours. I just—I needed something to wear, and I found it in my bag. I guess you left it in my room at some point, and I ended up packing it with my things."

"Uh huh."

"Joe recognized it," she confesses. "He was looking at me weird, and then it must've clicked in his head. He said you had a shirt just like mine."

"Did he say it was the same as yours or like yours?"

"Like mine, at first. Then, he realized that they were the same."

"So he knows. He figured out that we—"

"No. I told him it was another guy's. Something I stole as a souvenir from the last tour."

"And...he bought that?"

She nods. "I wasn't sure at first. But then he started hitting on me and trying to kiss me. I didn't think he would do that if he thought that we were...something."

"Right," Nick says, slumping into an armchair. "I guess he wouldn't."

"Look, I'm really sorry. I should've been more careful. I'm just not used to this whole sneaking around thing."

"We shouldn't have let this happen."

"You didn't do anything, Nick. It was all my fault."

"Not that. Us. We shouldn't have done anything about this," he says, waving his arms between them.

Miley bites at her lip. "What are you saying? You don't want to hookup anymore?"

"We weren't hooking up. We were hovering around second base."

"Oh, Nick, come on," she answers, stepping closer. "That's what you're upset over? Because I made a joke?"

"I'm not upset over that."

"Clearly, you are. You wouldn't still be thinking about it otherwise."

"It doesn't matter," he says, crossing his arms. "I'm over it."

"You're not. You probably think that I'm more experienced than you, so—"

"I don't think that. I _know_ that. You've made it more than obvious that you've been with all of these guys. Each tour is someone new."

"All right, Nick. Go ahead and judge me then."

"I'm not judging you. It's a fact that you've been with them."

"Okay, but you knew that. Joe filled you in when we first met. If you knew that it would bother you, you shouldn't have flirted with me."

"I never flirted with you. You weren't even interested in me."

Miley rolls her eyes. "You're getting all worked up over nothing," she says, unfolding his arms from his chest.

He groans as she straddles him, moving his hands to her hips. "It's not nothing," he mumbles. "You just don't get it."

"Explain it to me."

"I'm trying to," he says. "I'm trying to explain to you that I don't want to be another one of those guys, just another tally to mark. I don't want to be another name that you throw around, like, 'Yeah, I made out with Nick Jonas. I'd give him a solid five.'"

She laughs. "If you think that I'd only give you a five, you are so underrating yourself."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I."

"Then, you should understand why we can't do this anymore."

"Because you're insecure."

"I'm not insecure."

"You're comparing yourself to everyone else. Scratch that. You think you're not _as good_ as everyone else."

"Can we stop talking about me?" he snaps. "This is about you, too. Do you know what would've happened if they found out about us tonight? You'd be gone. It'd be worse than if they found you with Joe."

"_Enough_ about Joe and getting caught and getting fired."

"But you don't get it. I'm trying to protect you. And I know—that you said—that you—don't want me to—but I—" He huffs. "Can you stop kissing me so that I can talk?"

She smiles. "Go ahead."

"Well, now I forgot what I wanted to say."

"I think it was something like, 'I'm sorry, Miley, that sometimes I turn into a shy, selfish, little boy. What I really want is for you to forget everything that I've said since you walked through the door so that things can go back to the way they were.'"

"Oh," Nick says with a grin, "was that it?"

"I'm pretty sure. No, wait. I forgot the part where you wanted to mention how I'm the most gorgeous and wonderful woman you've ever met. How your life has drastically changed for the better since I've graced you with my presence."

"Okay, now you're getting ahead of yourself."

They're both laughing as he tosses her onto the sofa. Miley's eyes roll to his once he's climbed over her, an arm braced on either side of her head. "You're stupid," she says. "I can't believe you actually wanted to end this."

"I didn't want to. I figured that it would be easier. You know, if it was _my_ fault that you had to leave—"

"Nick."

He watches as her fingers reach up, toying with the dog tag and ring dangling from his neck. She's so calm. He doesn't get it. But maybe, just maybe, she thinks that whatever this thing is between them is worth what they're going to have to go through.

"We have to do something about Joe, though," Nick says. "He already thinks that I have a crush on you. Now, he's going to be even more wary."

"So I'll spend more time with him. I'll let him think that he's the Jonas that I _really_ have eyes for."

"I should go."

"Go?" she repeats. "Where are you—"

"I'll go home for a little while."

"Okay, because that makes total sense."

"It does. My dad and I already talked about me heading to L.A. for a bit. He knows that I want to leave. Then Joe will know that it wasn't a spur of the moment thing."

"He won't find it weird at all that you leave right when he suspects us of—"

"It'll be fine. If you do your part and I do mine, no one will even consider there's something going on with us."

She frowns. "How long will you be gone for?"

"I guess, like, a few weeks."

"A few weeks?" Miley says, dropping her hold on his chain. "Nick, this tour isn't going to last forever."

"It'll be for a little while. I'll be back before you know it."

"What about while you're away? You'll text me, right?"

"Mhm. Of course. We can e-mail and video chat, too. We'll make it work."

"Yeah," she murmurs. "You're familiar with this long distance thing, aren't you?"

"Just a little bit."

Miley leans up. "Tell me about her."

"Not tonight," he replies, pushing her back down. "Tonight, let's just think about us."

* * *

**Hello, everyone! I guess it's been a while since I've left a note. Just wanted to thank all of you for sticking around. I'm so happy that you guys seem to be enjoying the story so far. As a heads up, the next chapter is going to have a little change in format, but it will be posted soon :)**


	8. Los Angeles & West Coast

Before this gets confusing: anything in plain text represents actual conversation. Bold text sections are Nick's e-mails/texts to Miley. Italic sections are Miley's e-mails/texts to Nick.

* * *

**Los Angeles, CA/Denver, CO**

"Can you see me?"

Nick laughs as Miley leans in, pushing and pulling on the screen. "I can pretty much see down your shirt with you sitting that close."

"Such a gentleman."

"I told you so that you could fix yourself," he elaborates. "Do you think that I would've said anything if I wanted to look?"

"Oh, so you're not interested."

"I didn't mean it like that."

Miley laughs. "Wait, that reminds me. I got you a gift."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I made it myself."

He watches as she stretches across her hotel bed, drifting partially out of the frame. "So what exactly did I say to remind you of this gift?"

"You'll understand in a second." Miley suddenly pops back in front of the screen, holding a piece of paper in front of her. "Ta-da!"

Nick shifts closer, trying to read what's written on it. "What is that? A certificate of...achievement?"

"Mhm. It says," she pauses for a moment to clear her throat, "this certificate is awarded to Nick Jonas for officially reaching second base."

"Oh my God." And he's suddenly not sure whether he's going to flush from embarrassment or burst into laughter. "Where did you get that?"

"I printed it out online. It was just a template. I had to put in all the good stuff."

"You are insane."

"Wouldn't be the first time someone's told me that." Miley takes another look at the certificate and grins. "I'm gonna mail it out to you tomorrow morning. You can hang it in your room."

Nick chuckles. "My mom would freak out. Then, she'd probably interrogate me for an hour."

"Do you think she knows what second base is?"

"I think she knows it's not a good thing."

"It depends who you ask," she says. "I think it's a good thing."

"You made that more than evident the night before I left. With all those noises you were making..."

Miley's jaw drops. "Are you gloating, Nick Jonas?"

"Maybe." He moves his arms behind him, using them to brace his weight. "Would you be surprised if I was?"

"Not really. Besides, I taught you everything."

"You did not. I definitely threw in a few of my own moves."

"Your own moves?"

"You know, ones that I've learned along the way."

She crosses her legs beneath her. "I think you're a lot more experienced than you let on."

"You can find out if you want."

She starts laughing again, covering her mouth as she gets a little too loud. "You're only being this cocky because you can hide behind a computer screen. When you're back here with me, you're going to be all shy and quiet."

"Who said I was coming back?"

"You did. You said you were only going to be away long enough to throw away any suspicion."

"Is it working?"

Miley nods. "Joe invited me out with him and a bunch of other people. We went to a karaoke bar."

"Oh, he mentioned that," Nick murmurs. "How was it?"

"Fun. I didn't go up. I was having too much of a good time laughing at everyone else. Joe covered that Rick Astley song, 'Never Gonna Give You Up.'"

"I'm sure it was great."

"You would've sung it better."

Nick lowers his eyes, taking a new interest in the blue blanket beneath him. "I probably wouldn't have even gone up there."

"Well, I said that it was a karaoke _bar_. Maybe with a few drinks in you first, it'd be different."

"Miley," he groans, "how long is it going to be before you let that go?"

"However long it takes before you do something equally as entertaining."

"That wasn't entertaining. That was humiliating."

"You don't even remember what happened."

"Good thing I didn't. Otherwise, I never would've asked you and found out about you wanting to kiss me."

She laughs. "Apparently, you wanted to kiss me, too."

"Yeah, I wanted to, and I actually _did_ it."

Miley throws her head back. "Can we stop talking about kissing? It's only making me miss you more."

"You miss me?"

"Duh. It's so boring here without you."

He glances away. Honestly, he's all too pleased that she's miserable. But it's starting to make him wonder if maybe—possibly—this thing between him will be different than it was with everyone else.

"I'm sure you're busy."

"It's not the same. I mean, I actually have to _work_ the merch table now. At least when you were here, there was always the possibility that you'd show up and we'd sneak off for a little."

"We only did that, like, twice. You said you didn't want that girl to get suspicious."

"Yeah, I know." Miley leans back, glances over her shoulder. "Speaking of people getting suspicious, I should probably go. I told Joe that I'd call him after I got changed into my sweats."

"Oh."

"It doesn't mean anything, Nick."

"Then just stay here with me. You've been with him all day, and this is the only way I get to see you."

"It was your choice to leave."

"I did it for you."

She huffs. "C'mon, Nick. Can we please not fight over this?"

"Fine," he says. "We won't fight. Just go call Joe."

"I'll e-mail you tomorrow, all right? It's going to be okay. We'll be okay."

"Mhm."

Miley lifts her fingers to her lips, blows him a kiss. "I'll see you soon."

The screen goes dark. Nick sits there, wondering if it was such a good idea to leave after all.

* * *

_San Francisco, CA_

_From: smileymiley1123 _

_To: nickj4prez _

_Hey N.J.,_

_I can't believe I actually got to see your handsome face yesterday. It's only the start of Day Three, but it feels more like Day Three Hundred. I can't believe I just wrote that. You'll probably hold that over me until you get back to touring with us._

_I'm sure you talked to Joe by now. Just to clarify (because I don't know what he told you), nothing happened. We watched a movie. He tried to put his arm around me, but I got out of that one. No worries! I'm still kind of confused over this whole thing though. I thought your dad didn't want me near him? Maybe he thinks being a rebel will impress me or something. It won't. Ugh. Things would be so much easier if I could tell him that I have the hots for his younger brother._

_We get to L.A. tomorrow morning. There are rumors swirling that the whole Jonas clan will be at the concert to support Joe. Fingers crossed that it's true._

* * *

**Los Angeles, CA**

**From: nickj4prez **

**To: smileymiley1123 **

**Miley,**

**I wish that I could've talked to you tonight at the show. You looked so beautiful. I just wanted to grab my mom's hand and bring her over so that I could introduce you to her. I think you'd really like her. I know she'd really like you.**

**I figured it'd be best to lay low though. Frankie caught me staring at you once or twice. I knew if I actually walked over to you, he'd tell someone (or everyone). **

**It's always nice to read that you miss me. But you really thought that it felt like Day Three Hundred? I didn't realize I was that awesome :)**

**And you're right. I got a phone call from Joe before I got around to reading your e-mail. He's still really into you. The more I try to talk him out of it, the more he seems to want to go after you. I'm pretty sure that this plan of ours is working a little too well. I kind of wish that I jumped back on the tour bus with you instead of going home after the show.**

* * *

_Pomona, CA_

_From: smileymiley1123 _

_To: nickj4prez _

_N.J.!_

_Way to get me all depressed. You should've come back with me on my bus. There's plenty of room for you in my bunk ;)_

_You looked pretty good at the show, too, mister. I didn't know that going to a concert called for a button-up and slacks, but you looked so damn good in them that I'm not complaining. I'm flattered that you wanted to introduce me to your mom. It wouldn't be the best idea though. Besides, I don't think she'd like me if I told her all of the things that I wanted to do with her most prized possession, aka you._

_We just finished up our last show in California. We have the next two days off, and then Joe has a show in Arizona. I'm sitting here and thinking about what we could've done if you were here with me. But I'm sure that Joe would want to spend his time off with you, so I'm trying to convince myself that I wouldn't have seen you at all anyway._

_Okay, let's be real. I definitely would've managed to steal you away for a little while. We could've spent a few hours together. And then, maybe, at some point, we'd leave the hotel and actually check out Arizona._

_Sorry. I'll get my mind out of the gutter now. You're probably all red and embarrassed._

_Come back soon._

* * *

**Los Angeles, CA**

**From: nickj4prez **

**To: smileymiley1123 **

**Miley,**

**You are so lucky that no one knows the password to my e-mail account. Honestly, could you make it any more obvious that you want me?**

**Kidding. **

**I'm not all red either. Just so you know.**

**So you're in Arizona now. That's where Joe was born. He told me that he's already planning to give everyone a tour of his 'home state.' Don't go. I'm not saying that because I don't want you around him. I'm just warning you because Joe has no sense of direction, and you'll probably end up in the middle of nowhere.**

**It's pretty quiet back at home. I went out to lunch with my mom and Frankie. I played with my dog for a little while. Then, I messed around with my guitar. It's fun, but it's not the same. I'm already trying to figure out when I can fly out to you guys.**

**Or maybe you could fly out to me? Spend your last free day with me in L.A.. I'll even pick you up at the airport.**

* * *

_Scottsdale, AZ_

_From: smileymiley1123 _

_To: nickj4prez _

_N.J.,_

_Why couldn't you have had that brilliant idea before I left? I totally could've gotten a room at a hotel in L.A.. Then we could've hung out all the time, just like it used to be. But, no, Boy Wonder. You had to wait to use your genius brain until I was gone._

_I took your advice and didn't go with Joe on his tour. They didn't get lost, but they did lose track of time. Your dad almost flipped out because he couldn't find Joe. So I guess it was good that I didn't go. I don't need to get any further on your dad's bad side than I already am. Instead, I chilled in my hotel room, ordered room service, and watched crappy reality T.V. shows. Bet you're jealous._

_I miss your face._

* * *

**From: Nick**

**To: Miley**

**Google me :)**

_From: Miley_

_To: N.J._

_Oh so we're texting now?_

**From: Nick**

**To: Miley**

**You just sounded desperate to see me. It was a friendly reminder that there are thousands of pictures of my face on the internet.**

_From: Miley_

_To: N.J._

_There aren't thousands of pictures of me on the internet._

**From: Nick**

**To: Miley**

**That's why I'm starting to forget what you look like :)**

_From: Miley_

_To: N.J._

_Maybe I could remind you and send a pic in my next e-mail._

**From: Nick**

**To: Miley**

**YES!**

* * *

_Houston, Texas_

_From: smileymiley1123 _

_To: nickj4prez _

_N.J.,_

_You are such a boy sometimes. Could you have sounded any more eager in your text?_

_But I have attached one photo of myself for your enjoyment. If you haven't looked at it yet (though it's probably the first thing you clicked on), don't get too excited. It's only from the waist up, and I'm wearing my clothes. I didn't want to overwhelm your virgin eyes._

_We're in Texas! Apparently, that's your home state. I think that's a perfect excuse for you to fly out to we can hangout, and I don't have to party with Joe all the time._

* * *

_From: Miley_

_To: N.J._

_Need to talk to you about tonight. Are you up?_

**From: Nick**

**To: Miley**

**I'm up. What's going on?**

_From: Miley_

_To: N.J._

_Have you talked to Joe?_

**From: Nick**

**To: Miley**

**Not tonight. Why? What happened?**

His phone goes off after he sends the text. Sure enough, Miley's name is flashing across the screen. "Hello?" he murmurs.

"Nick? Did I wake you before?"

"Yeah, but it's okay. What—what happened with Joe?"

"A mistake."

He squeezes his eyes shut. He knew. He knew it was something bad. Now, he's preparing himself for the worst.

"What kind of mistake?"

Nick can hear her hesitate, suck in a deep breath. "I kissed him."

"You kissed him, or he kissed you?"

"I kissed him. It was all me."

"Uh huh." He was hoping that she misspoke. That she messed up the details. She didn't. "Where?"

"At the bar we went out to."

"No, where did you kiss him? On—on the mouth?"

"Yes."

"And did he kiss you back?"

"Obviously."

"Yeah," he mumbles, "yeah, that was a stupid question."

"Nick, it wasn't stupid," she says. "It's just that you know he likes me. It's not that he wouldn't do anything."

"Right."

Miley swallows. "He keeps hitting on me. I can't act as if I'm not interested. That'd totally ruin everything that we're working for."

"It doesn't mean that you have to kiss him either, Miley. You can flirt with him, but you don't have to take it any further."

"I do, actually."

"Will you stop with that?" he hisses, fighting to keep his voice low. "You keep saying you have to do certain things or act a certain way. But you don't. I think you're just using it as an excuse."

"An excuse for what?"

"For getting with me _and_ Joe."

"Get over yourself, Nick," she snaps. "Stop acting like you know everything about me."

"I know a lot more than you realize."

"Well, I knew that you would freak out. I wanted to tell you before you heard from Joe because I figured it'd be better that way."

"Why wouldn't I freak out? Did you expect that I'd give you a round of applause for making out with my brother?"

"I didn't make out with him. It was one stupid kiss."

"Stupid?"

"I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't go out with the intention to kiss him. I just...I know there's no excuse for it. I only wanted to tell you and apologize. That's all. I didn't mean for it to get like this."

"I know," he says. "I was just waiting for something to happen, and I knew when you texted me that that was it. I guess I kind of lost my temper for a minute."

"You had every right to."

"Well, I'm sorry, anyway."

"Apology accepted."

"Yours, too."

Miley laughs. "I bet we'd have a pretty kick-ass make-up, make-out session right about now if we were together."

Just like that, he's laughing along with her. "Is that all you think about?"

"It's hard not to when you're so good looking."

"I'm flattered."

"I thought you'd be."

He grins. "I want to fly out to Texas."

"Seriously?" she gasps. "You have to. Now that you've mentioned it, you _have_ to."

"I will. I'll talk to my mom in the morning, and we'll start looking up flights."

"Good. Oh, yay. I'm excited now."

He didn't need her to tell him. He can hear it in her voice.

"Me too. I miss you."

"I miss you, too. When do you think you'll get here?"

"I don't _know_, Miley. Let me find a flight first. I'll e-mail you as soon as I figure it out."

"Send me a picture, too. You owe me."

"I don't think mine could compare to yours."

"Oh. You liked it that much, did you?"

"Good night."

"Don't try to get out of this, N.J.. Tell me how much you liked it."

"What was that?" he teases. "I can't hear you. I think the connection is breaking up."

"Nick!"

* * *

**Los Angeles, CA**

**From: nickj4prez **

**To: smileymiley1123 **

**Mileyyy!**

**I'm flying into Dallas. I'll get to see you in three days. Then we'll get to hang out until the tour stops in New York. **

**Hope things are going well. I hope you're not mad at me either for hanging up last night. I might have attached a picture of myself just to ease the tension.**

* * *

_Austin, TX_

_From: smileymiley1123 _

_To: nickj4prez _

_N.J._

_Tension = eased. I'm officially no longer mad at you for hanging up on me. But if I get mad at you again, can you send me another shirtless picture? I'd like to add to my collection._

_Can't believe you're going to be here soon! Good news: I don't have to work merch anymore. Shocker, I know. So we can actually be backstage together without people being suspicious. And your dad told me that I'll probably have to keep an eye on you once you arrive. I told him that it was no problem. I might even have my hands and mouth on you, too. _

_I can't pick you up from the airport though. Your brother has a meeting in the morning, and I'm supposed to go and assist. They'll send someone to get you, and then I'll track you down once we get back to the hotel :)_

* * *

**Los Angeles, CA**

**From: nickj4prez **

**To: smileymiley1123 **

**Miley,**

**I'm officially all packed. My mom thinks I'm crazy because I've got my suitcase ready to go, but she knows that I'm glad to get out on the road. I'm glad to get to you, too.**

**My flight lands in the early afternoon. We're only going to be in Texas for the day, so I was thinking that maybe I could take you out to eat? I know the place that makes the best ribs in all of Dallas. So...lunch date? Maybe? Hopefully?**

**I'll be there soon. Try to hold out for me and don't go around kissing my brother, okay? Kidding. But seriously, don't kiss him :)**

* * *

**Los Angeles, CA**

**From: nickj4prez **

**To: smileymiley1123 **

**Miley,**

**I really was joking about the whole kissing Joe thing. I know that it was a mistake, and that we're both over it. Hope you're not mad at me. I just haven't heard from you.**

* * *

**From: Nick**

**To: Miley**

**Hey. Is there something wrong with your e-mail?**

**From: Nick**

**To: Miley**

**If you're ignoring me to freak me out, it's working. This better not be a ploy to get more shirtless photos.**

**From: Nick**

**To: Miley**

**So I talked to Joe and he said he saw you today. I know you're alive. I don't want to sound like some obsessive stalker but I'm starting to worry about you. Did I do something?**

**From: Nick**

**To: Miley**

**Can you please let me know that we're okay? That you're okay?**

**From: Nick**

**To: Miley**

**Miley?**

* * *

Hey guys! I hope you all got through this chapter okay. I just wanted to post something as a kind of interlude while Nick and Miley are apart. But they'll be together for the next one. I wrote the chapter a couple of weeks ago, and I have to admit that it's one of my favorites so I'll probably be posting it soon!


	9. Dallas, Texas

Nick's tired. He's annoyed and pissed off. There's nothing he'd like more than to climb into bed and take a nice, long nap.

His flight to Dallas sucked. He ended up sitting in front of a four year old kid who insisted on throwing the tantrum of the century. She was screaming so loud that even the music blaring from his headphones couldn't drown it out. And now, he's going to have to suffer through the drive to the hotel by making friendly small talk with the intern who's picking him up.

It basically feels like one of those days that _defines_ Murphy's Law. So it seems all too unreal when his eyes land on Miley.

He blinks once, and then again, to make sure she's still there. He even rubs at his eyes to make sure that it's not some kind of cruel mirage. But there she is, standing at the end of the escalator, holding a sign reading 'N.J.'

Nick leaps off the last three steps. She laughs as he bounds over, holding him off as he leans in to kiss her. "Not here," she says into his ear. "There are a couple of paparazzi outside. I don't want them to see you."

"They knew I was flying in today?"

"I don't think so. They're probably just trying to catch some unlucky celebrity who's passing through."

"Oh, okay." He tugs on his Dodgers cap and then reaches for her hand, loosely linking their fingers. "I have to get my bags."

"Mhm. They should be at carousel five."

They head over to the baggage claim, hovering behind everyone else as they wait for the luggage to be unloaded. "What are you even doing here? I thought they were sending someone to get me?"

"They were. But I may have _accidentally_ told her that you were landing at two instead of twelve."

"Accidentally?"

"Yeah, of course," she replies. "So when I saw her still at the hotel at eleven, I knew I'd just have to get you myself."

"Did she get in trouble?"

"Well, I said that she has to be more responsible when it comes to dealing with our clientele. And she told me that she could've _sworn_ that you were landing later, but she apologized and said it wouldn't happen again."

"Uh huh."

"I was just desperate to see you, I guess." She looks up at him, runs her hand over the lower planes of his stomach. "How was L.A.?"

"Quiet. My mom and brother were happy to see me. I got to work on my music."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he answers, pulling her closer. "I wrote a song."

Miley's eyes light up. "You wrote a whole song all on your own?"

Nick nods. "I want to play it for you later."

"Wow, a private concert by Nick Jonas. Must be my lucky day."

Once the conveyor belt starts rolling, they patiently wait until his bags ride over. They manage to pass by the photogs without a second glance, Nick pulling his suitcase while Miley carries his backpack. She leads the way through the parking lot. When they get to a large, black Escalade, she pops open the trunk. They throw in the bags and then climb up front.

She catches the back of his neck as soon as the doors are locked, bringing him in for a kiss. "Missed you," she says.

"Missed you, too," he replies, stealing her mouth again. "I missed this."

"I bet you did."

Nick laughs until she starts pulling on his sweatshirt. He kisses her sweetly and deeply while she continues to tug. He almost topples onto her, catching himself last minute before he falls over the console.

"Graceful."

"Hey, you could be more gentle, you know."

"I could, but I don't really want to."

He hisses as she nips at his bottom lip. "Ow, Miley."

"Sorry," she giggles, trailing her thumb over his mouth. "I couldn't help it."

Nick exhales slow while she tries to soothe him. The hurt reminding him of something else. "How come—how come you stopped answering me?"

"What do you mean?"

"My e-mails and text messages. I sent you a bunch of them, and you just didn't reply after a while."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I had so much to do here, though. I think your dad's starting to trust me again. Maybe Joe put in a good word or something. Did I tell you that I don't have to work merch anymore?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you told me."

Miley frowns. "That's a _good_ thing. Not having to work merch."

"Mhm. I know."

"So why aren't you happy for me?"

"I'm just not buying your story that you were too busy to answer a text message."

"And here we go again."

Nick slumps back in his seat. "Did something happen with Joe? I mean, I know you didn't do anything else with him because he would've told me. But did you realize that you have feelings for him?"

"I don't want to do this now."

"All I'm asking for is an explanation. You can explain to me what happened, or you can explain why you even felt the need to kiss him in the first place."

"I told you why," she snaps, her electric yellow nails tightening around the wheel. "I did it to throw suspicion off of us."

"You also said that it was something that you _had_ to do."

"Drop it."

"Why can't you tell me?" he presses. "I'll listen if you just explain to me what happened to make you think that you have to—"

"Stop, Nick. I'm done with this."

"With what? This conversation or us?"

"I don't know," she says, starting up the engine. "Maybe both."

* * *

He pretends to sleep the whole ride to the hotel. He's not up for talking. Whatever he says seems to screw everything up anyway.

His second surprise of the day is when he sees Joe waiting in the parking garage. He's already running over before they've even parked. Nick barely has his seat belt off when his brother throws open the door. "Nicky J," he cries.

"Hey, Joe."

Nick's pulled out of his seat and into Joe's arms. "Missed you, bro. There's so much I have to tell you. It's like you've been gone forever."

"I talked to you on the phone everyday," Nick reminds him. "And we hung out after your L.A. show."

"That wasn't enough obviously."

"Yeah, obviously."

Grinning, Joe leads the way to the trunk. "Everything okay at the airport?" he asks Miley as he tugs out Nick's suitcase.

"Yep," she replies, grabbing the backpack. "No problems at all."

"Good. You're lucky she knew what time your flight landed, Nick. The girl who was supposed to get you would've shown up two hours late."

"Miley told me."

They get into the elevator, Joe leaning over to press the button to their floor. Nick watches them. Waits to see if Joe will reach for her hand or lean into her ear. Keeps his ears perked for some flirtatious comment to fly out of Miley's mouth.

"So your mini vacation went well," Joe pipes up, interrupting his focus. "You have to play me that song you wrote."

"I will."

"Mom said it sounds really good. She thinks you write the best love songs."

"Love song?" Miley questions.

Oh no. "It's not a love song," Nick mutters.

"Yeah, it is. Mom told me it's called 'My Love.'"

"It's not. She must've heard it wrong."

"What's the title then? 'My Glove'?"

"No," he hisses. "I didn't even play the song for Mom. I didn't play it for _anyone_. She was probably eavesdropping through the walls."

"Dude, it's not a big deal. Why are you flipping out?"

"Because I don't want to talk about the song."

He can't breathe. The walls are closing in, and the air is being sucked out. He's going to suffocate and die right here.

"Hey, did something happen with Sel—"

"_No_. I didn't see her. I didn't talk to her. I wasn't even thinking about her."

By the time Nick manages to see straight again, he realizes that they're at their floor. Miley's gone. So is his backpack.

"Perfect," he mutters. "Fucking perfect."

He bolts down the hall. He catches her duck around one of the corners. She's moving fast as if on a mission to lose him.

"Hey," he shouts. "Miley, wait a second."

She slips in her room like she can't even hear him.

"Miley." Nick pounds his fist against the door. "C'mon. I know you're in there."

"Way to go."

"You have my bag."

The door opens and closes lightning fast, giving her just enough time to throw his backpack—and hit him right in the face.

"What was that for?"

"Go away."

He presses his palms against the frame, leans in closer. "Can you please let me in?"

"No."

"Well, I'm not leaving. I know Joe's on his way over. So we can have this conversation just like this, for everyone to hear."

Again, the door opens and shuts, letting her pull him in.

"My backpack—"

Huffing, she grabs it and then slams the door closed. "Is that the song you wanted to play for me?" she demands. "The song that Joe was talking about?"

"Yeah, but—"

"'My Love'?"

"Yeah, but—"

"I can't believe you."

"Why?" he gasps. "That's what I do. I'm a songwriter." Nick steps forward. "Are you upset because of what Joe said?"

Miley exhales. She knows all about her, about Selena. Another one of Disney's manufactured triple-threats. She met her once, having to assist at one of her concerts. And she's sweet and polite and absolutely beautiful. But that night, Miley learned how great of an effect auto-tune can have on a singer's voice.

He takes it as his cue to keep talking when Miley remains quiet. "We dated for two years. Two years straight, not even off and on. A lot of music back then was about her. But we're over now. We've _been_ over. We don't even talk anymore."

"Okay."

"So the song's not about her."

"Nick, I know that."

"Then why are you angry at me?"

"Because it shouldn't be about me either."

Nick licks his lips. "Why not? You're my girlfriend."

"I'm not your girlfriend."

"So you _are_ done with us."

"I wasn't your girlfriend to begin with."

"But we—we kiss and stuff," he stammers. "I mean, I know I didn't, like, officially _ask_ you, but I thought we were, like, together."

"And I thought that we were on the same page," she counters. "The guys that I get with every tour are not my boyfriends."

"Okay."

"We just hook up."

"All right."

"That's what _this_ is," she says. "You and me. We're not in a relationship or an item or whatever you want to call it. We are two people who are hooking up."

"We don't have to be. I said that I wanted to take you out."

"I don't want you to. _That's_ why I stopped answering your e-mails and texts. You started talking about going on dates, and I don't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't. I usually only get involved with someone actually _in_ the band I'm touring with. So I already broke that rule by being with you. But that's it. That's all you're getting."

"We can't even do lunch?"

"No. If you can't control your feelings, we can't keep doing this."

He shrugs. "It's not like I can help how I feel about you."

"Well, you don't love me. You don't even know what that is. You're too—"

"Don't say it. Don't you _dare_ tell me that I'm too young to know what love is."

"You don't."

"_You_ don't," Nick says, fighting to keep his voice steady. "You never will if you never give someone the chance to show you."

Miley shakes her head. "That _someone_ is not going to be you. I'm done. I'm done with this conversation. I'm done with us. I'm done with everything."

"Fine. We're done then."

He grabs his bag, not bothering to look back as he heads out. That's where Joe's waiting for him, frowning. "Everything okay?"

"She wouldn't give me my backpack," he lies, wishing it were true. Wishing she had a harder time giving him back his heart.

* * *

Nick wakes up with something sticking to his forehead and his phone buzzing.

Leaning on his elbow, he rips off the Post-It from his skin. He knows it's from Joe before he even reads the message.

_Had to leave early for soundcheck. Sending a car to get you at 6:30._

He yawns. The clock beside his bed lets him know that it's only a quarter to six. He's got time. He also has a text message.

**From: Miley**

**Open the door you moron**

_Pleasant as always_, he thinks.

Then, he hears a pounding sound coming from the suite. Nick gets up, stretches his arms over his head, and then goes to the door. Sure enough, there's Miley in a flowy, knee-length skirt and cowboy boots.

"What are you wearing?"

"Look who's talking," she replies. "I didn't think Nick Jonas would ever be caught in sweats."

"This is _loungewear_," he counters. "You didn't answer my question."

"Can I come in first?"

Nick blocks the doorway with his arm. "Answer my question."

Miley pouts. "I've never been to an authentic Texas barbecue joint before. I thought this would be appropriate."

"You're going out to dinner?"

"With you."

"_Me_?"

"You said you know the place that makes the best ribs in all of Dallas."

"You said you don't go on dates."

"I know," she mumbles. "But I'm standing in front of you, wearing the most ridiculous outfit I've ever worn in my entire life. Can you please work with me?"

He grins. "You did all of this just for me?"

"I felt bad after our argument. So I walked around for two hours until I found this rundown, redneck, country store. This was the best that I could do."

"I think you look adorable."

"_Nick_."

"Let me grab my phone. I want to a take a picture."

"Stop," she whines. "Are we going or not? If we're not, I want to get changed."

"Oh, we're going. Do I have time to shower before I get dressed?"

"Yeah, I'm off tonight, so we have all the time we need." Miley pushes on his arm, finally gaining access to his room. "I'll even pick something out for you."

"Just because you pick something out, doesn't mean that I'm actually going to wear it."

"You are. We're going to be the best looking couple there."

He smiles as she runs off, wondering if she's really done with them after all.

* * *

"You're disgusting."

Nick laughs from across the table. "Why? Do I have something on my face?"

"You have your entire dinner on your face." Still giggling, she reaches over to wipe at his mouth. "It's like you're wearing barbecue sauce lipstick."

"I bet it tastes delicious."

Miley rolls her eyes, but presses her lips tenderly to his. "What do you know? It does."

"It's on you now."

"Of course, it is." She blushes as he runs his thumb over her mouth, his own lips pursed in concentration. It's cute. So she grabs his hand before he pulls away and holds it tight in her own. "I really like it here."

"I told you that you would. You have to trust me."

"I do."

"You don't."

"I'm learning to," she offers. "I mean, I know to trust your taste in restaurants now."

"Oh, thanks. I'm glad to know that's all I'm good for."

"It's not _all_ you're good for."

The teasing ends abruptly as their waitress sits a plate of apple cobbler between them. Miley grins in delight and snatches up a spoonful.

"Good?" he asks as her smile widens.

"So good," she says. "Here. Have a bite."

Nick turns away as she lifts the spoon to his mouth. "No, you eat."

"Fine by me. You're missing out though."

He smirks. He brings her inner wrist against his lips, pressing it there softly before lifting her palm to his cheek. She almost misses the sweet sigh of contentment that escapes him as her fingers lightly stroke his skin.

"You're making it extremely hard to resist you," Miley whispers while his eyes drift close. "I hope you know that."

"Don't resist me then."

There's a bustling sound from the left. Miley looks over to catch a band walk out on stage. Simultaneously, everyone seems to get up from their seats and over to the dance floor.

She pulls on Nick's hand as the first song starts, leading him over to the railing blocking in their second-story table. "You didn't mention that they play live music."

"I was hoping the band wouldn't be here tonight. I hate dancing."

He might hate it, but Miley doesn't miss the awkward way his hips swing along to the rhythm. He's better than Joe. She'll give him that much.

"C'mon," she says as another uptempo tune starts, "let's go."

"No. No, I never go down there. I like to watch."

"It'll be fun."

"I don't want to."

"It's line dancing. You just do what they say." Miley takes another step towards the stairs. "Please. For me?"

She knows she's won when he groans. "I can't believe you're making me do this."

"You won't regret it. I promise."

They join the crowd on the floor, clapping along to the beat. As the singer belts out the steps, Miley tries to follow along. The movements are all really basic. It's just hard to concentrate with Nick next to her, basically tripping over himself every two-seconds.

"_Now do-si-do 'til the cows come home_."

"Yeah, N.J.," she says, linking her elbow with his. "Do-si-do 'til the cows come home."

"I'm gonna be sick," he replies while they spin in circles.

But they just laugh and laugh until the song dissolves into a cover of 'Can't Help Falling In Love.' Nick's grateful for the change in tempo. He swings his arms around Miley's waist, holding her near as they sway.

"Oh, so you're a slow dancer, are you?"

"Mhm. This is more my style."

"Some guys like to slow dance so that they can feel a girl up."

Nick bites at his lower lip, trying hard to suppress his laughter. "You are such a moment ruiner."

"A moment ruiner?"

"I like slow dancing because it's romantic. That's all."

"I think you're very romantic," she says, sweeping her hands behind his neck. "I also think you're a very good slow dancer. Not so much with the line dancing though."

"Moment ruiner," he reminds her, pressing his forehead to hers.

Miley breathes in deep. Never in a million years would she have expected to be here. Slow dancing at a hole in the wall barbecue joint in Texas. Not with Nick. Not with anyone. It almost feels like a dream, but every time she shuts and opens her eyes, he's still there. He's still holding her tight in his arms and singing along in her ear.

"N.J.?" she murmurs, nudging her nose to his to get his attention. "Hey, I want to go back to the hotel now."

"Why? Aren't you having a good time?"

She wants to tell him that she's having the best time. That she can't remember the last time that she's ever been so happy. How she's afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing and ruining it all.

"Please," she says instead.

Nodding, he lets her pull him off the dance floor. She persuades him to take a taxi back to the hotel even though he says he'd rather walk. She doesn't tell him that a cab will be faster and that she just wants to be alone with him as soon as she can.

When they're in the elevator, Miley takes his hand. "Thank you for tonight."

He smiles. "You're welcome."

"Guys don't usually take me out," she confesses. "Even before I got started with this whole thing with the bands and stuff, it was never like this."

"I tried telling you that it wouldn't be too painful."

"I should've listened."

He walks with her to her room, not that she expected anything less from him. "I guess it's not first date etiquette to invite you in," she says as she takes out her room key.

"No," he admits. "Some people don't even kiss on the first date."

"Well, we've been breaking that rule all night, haven't we?"

Miley pushes up on her toes. She leans her whole body into his as they kiss, taking him with her as she sways back into the door. She can feel his hands slide from the curve of her shoulders, down her back, and to her hips. If it were anyone but Nick, he'd already have her stripped down in his bed. But this is different, and she likes it.

She holds him off long enough to get her key in the door. It beeps, and she pushes it open in one fluid movement. Miley tugs him with her, refusing to give him a chance to escape.

Miley kicks off her boots. She's suddenly another two inches shorter than him, but Nick just cranes his neck to keep them connected.

But she realizes they have another problem as she goes to take a step forward. "Wait," she says. "My skirt's stuck in the door."

He doesn't believe it until he sees it for himself. "Oh, Miley," he chastises, opening the door wide enough for her to pull the material through.

"It's not ruined, is it?"

"There isn't a single tear. Don't worry."

"Good." She leaps up, wrapping her arms and legs tight around him. "The bedroom's down on the left."

"The bedroom?" he quips. "That's third date material, you know."

"Guess we're on the fast track then."

Nick pauses for a moment. "I don't want this to be like what you're used to. I'm not like those other guys. I'm not after _that_."

"I know. You'll stay for an hour. Then I'll let you go."

"How kind of you. I was worried that I'd be held captive here forever."

Miley laughs as he starts carrying her into the other room. "Well, I'll _try_ to let you go. I can't make any promises."

"Now, I _am_ worrying."

"Shh. Stop being ridiculous."

"I'm not. I'm being honest."

She rolls her eyes once she's standing on the mattress. "I can tell when you're joking. You're not fooling anyone."

"Okay, good."

Taller than him now, Miley presses her lips to his forehead. Her fingers uncurl from his shoulders, drifting down to his belt. "I promise not to get ahead of myself," she says as she unbuckles it. "I know you have boundaries."

"Yeah," he breathes out, "boundaries."

"Don't be afraid to stop me."

"Uh huh. Stop you."

"Nick." She's not sure if it's the sound of his name or the soft thud of his belt hitting the floor that gets his attention. Either way, his eyes snap to hers. "Stop me if you get uncomfortable, okay?"

"I will. You know you can stop me, too, if I do something—"

"You won't," she assures him. She sinks to her knees and pulls him down with her. "Now, c'mon. I only have an hour with you, and we've already wasted too much of it talking."

* * *

Miley can't believe how fast an hour can pass by. She also can't believe that you can spend an hour just kissing. And touching. With a lot of touching, actually.

Her eyes drift shut as she recalls the feeling of his hands on her skin. The way they canvassed every inch of her upper body before pushing her thighs wide. How his fingers slipped inside her panties before slipping inside her. She remembers his warm breath hitting her neck as he whispered unthinkable things in her ear, working her over until she reached absolute ecstasy.

She whimpers softly as the moment is interrupted by the bed sinking. Miley opens her eyes to find Nick sitting there, now with his jeans on. "You okay?" he asks. "Were you dreaming?"

"God, I hope that wasn't a dream."

He ducks his head down. "The last hour wasn't a dream. The last two minutes...maybe."

"I wasn't sleeping. I was just thinking." She sits up, presses her bare chest to his. "There isn't a way I can convince you to stay for another hour, is there?"

"Boundaries," he reminds her, though she catches him stutter for a brief moment.

"Hey, I was good."

"You were a little too good." Nick pushes his mouth hard to hers, feels her tug on his hair in surprise. "You're going to make it impossible to leave if you keep this up."

"Well, in that case, you should stay."

"No, you need to make me leave."

"Fine," she says, pulling away. "I'll walk you out then."

"Thank you." Nick tosses over his V-neck, letting her wear that while he slips on his denim button-up. "And you don't have to walk me out. Sleep."

"I have all night to sleep."

She reluctantly gets up from the bed. Miley shuffles along behind him, her arms wrapped loosely around his waist. And once they get to the door, she brings him down for one last kiss.

"You better call me," she teases. "I'd love to go out with you again."

"Yeah," he replies, playing along, "I'm sure I can fit you into my schedule somehow."

Her hands run over the front of him, his open shirt exposing his chest. She lets her fingers drift down to his left hip, pressing against the bruise her mouth left on his skin.

"Mmm." Nick winces. "That's sore."

"Sorry."

But she's only apologizing for touching it. She's not sorry for marking him as her own.

Miley reaches for the ends of his shirt and buttons them just enough to cover him. "Go, then," she says. "And sweet dreams."

"Yeah, you too."

She catches his hand right before he's out of reach. "Hey. Do you think you can play that song tomorrow? The one you wrote for me?"

She's sure she's never seen him happier. "First thing in the morning. I promise."

* * *

**Hey everybody! Just wanted to thank you guys quick for the huge response to the last chapter. Honestly, I was expecting two or three reviews, but you all went above and beyond that. So consider this update as a token of my gratitude. Hope you liked it.**


	10. Jackson, Mississippi

Nick doesn't think he'll ever get tired of hearing Miley sing his song. He's pretty sure she doesn't even know that she's doing it half the time. He'll just catch her in the moment.

That's what's happening now. He was going to ask her where the remote was for the T.V., hoping to catch the start of the Yankees game. But he stopped himself once he saw her in the bathroom, doing a little dance in front of the mirror.

"_I wanna write you a love song. I wanna whisper in your ear."_

He smiles. Leaning against the door frame, he tries to stay quiet. It might seem strange, but he finds every little thing she does to be completely entrancing. He's so content just by being around her.

"Why do you keep spying on me, you creep?"

Nick gasps, finding Miley starting at him through her reflection. "I'm not spying."

"You didn't tell me that you were standing there."

"I didn't want to bother you."

"I'm not really doing anything important," she laughs. "Just getting my stuff together."

"I guess."

"So did you need something, or—"

"Uh, the remote. For the T.V. in the other room."

"I think it's next to the lamp. The one that's on the side table."

"Okay."

Miley grins. "Anything else?"

"No. That's it, I think."

"All right. So get out of here." She crinkles her nose at him, making him laugh before she shuts the door.

Nick trudges through to the sitting area. The remote's sitting right where she said it was, but then he discovers that the game's been delayed due to rain. He decides to get comfortable against the pillows. He wrestles his phone out of his pocket and reads through the lyrics he's saved on it.

He wants to make the song perfect for her. Every time he catches her, it's like she breathes a new energy into it. And all Nick can do is desperately try to capture it.

"So you ask me where the remote is, and then you don't even put the T.V. on."

"Rain delay."

"For how long?" she asks, climbing across his legs.

"Until the rain stops."

"Smartass." Miley leans over. She presses her lips to his temple. Nick immediately jerks away at the contact, whining softly. "What? What's wrong?"

"I'm working."

"Oh, you're _working_. What could you possibly be working on?"

"Music."

"Not my song, though, right? You're leaving that alone."

His eyes stay fixated on the screen.

So Miley twists her head to get a look at it herself. "Nick," she cries, not even having to read fully through the first line before recognizing it, "that _is_ my song."

"_I_ wrote it."

"Well, stop rewriting it."

Huffing, Nick finally looks up at her. "I just want to make it perfect."

"It is perfect. You're going to destroy it if you obsess over every word."

"I can't help it."

"I think," she says, prying the phone from his fingers, "you should take all the work you're putting into this song and use it to write me another."

That's what Nick really wants. He's been catching random melodies and rhyming phrases passing through his head. He just needs to get them in order. He knows whatever he writes next has to be as good as the first. Better than the first.

"I'm trying."

"Maybe you could use some help. I could try to inspire you."

"Okay."

She watches as he sits back. Nick focuses his eyes on her, tilting his head to the side in intrigue. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't even make another movement.

"Well," Miley huffs, "are you gonna kiss me or not?"

"I'm thinking."

"You have to think about kissing me?"

"I'm thinking about you," he says. "About what part of you to start the song with."

"How about my lips and how good they feel against yours?"

Nick shakes his head, holds her off. "This is going to be different than it was with those other guys. Remember?"

"I remember."

"So we're taking it slow."

"If you consider last night taking it slow, I'd love to see what you're capable of at full speed."

His face blooms into a rosy red color at her comment. "I had a moment of weakness," he sighs. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for that."

"You deserved better from me."

"No, I deserved another hour of you in my bed."

Nick bites at his lip, willing himself to stay composed. "Miley," he says, "come on. I want to be serious now."

"Let's have fun instead," she replies. "I'm going to be on my bus tonight. You'll be on Joe's. I won't see you until tomorrow."

"We were just separated for twelve days."

"Which is why I've learned to make the most out of our time together."

Nick tightens his hold on her arms as she leans in for his neck. "_Miley_."

"I'm only trying to kiss you."

He knows that the longer he pushes her away, the more irritated she's going to get. So he decides to switch methods.

Sitting up, he draws her in. His lips mold around the curve of hers, and it suddenly feels like it's been much too long since he kissed her last. No wonder she was pushing so hard for this.

She's half on top of him now. Miley's somehow able to keep their mouths pressed together while she tugs on Nick's hips, swinging his legs onto the floor.

It's only when she's slipping her way between them that he figures out where this is going.

"Miley—"

"Relax, N.J.. It's fine."

"You don't—"

"I want to," she says, bracing her arms against his thighs. "Look, I know that sex is off limits, but you can't tell me that you've never had a blow job before."

Nick realizes that this isn't going to work either. He thought that maybe if he calmed her down, she'd be more willing to talk. That, he knows now, was stupid.

So he reaches for her hands. He pulls her up from the floor and into his lap. "We're taking it slow."

"Wait. You've never—"

Groaning, Nick throws his head back. He can't win.

She laughs. "I know you have." Miley gets up. "I'm going to call the hotel about tomorrow while you calm down, then."

"I _am_ calm."

"Sure, you are," she says, rubbing his back affectionately.

Miley thinks it's cute that he gets shy around her. It's a little reminder that he still is kind of a boy after all. Trying desperately to be so good all the time but losing out to instinct and desire every so often. And if she's the catalyst for the switch over, hey, she's not complaining.

She's been on the phone with the manager from the Tampa hotel for over fifteen minutes when she feels a pair of arms swoop around her waist. Miley leans back into Nick's hold, sighs as he kisses her hairline.

_You okay?_, she mouths to him.

_I have to leave_, he answers in the same fashion.

Her fingers tighten around his wrist to hold his attention. _Five minutes_, she begs.

Nick nods and sits on her bed.

"—and two milk chocolates on each pillow once the bed is made," the voice from the receiver rattles off. "Anything else, miss?"

"No. Oh, yes, actually," she says, taking another look at the long list of Joe's requests. "The main suite also needs a tray full of fresh fruit upon arrival at seven tomorrow morning. The fruit should already be sliced or cubed and include watermelon, oranges, mangos, pineapple—"

"Extra pineapple."

"Extra pineapple," she stresses, still smirking at Nick's interruption. "As well as honeydew and cantaloupe. A separate bowl of grapes may also be included, but only if they're red and not green."

"Yes, miss. We'll bring it up to the room five minutes before the expected arrival time."

"Thank you. And if there are any issues, please call me immediately. You have my number."

After exchanging goodbyes, Miley slips her phone away. She climbs onto the mattress where Nick is now stretched out on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Can I talk to you," she teases, "or are you working?"

He grins. "I'm not working. I'm just thinking about last night."

"About the sweet memories we made in this bed?"

Miley watches as he fights the urge the laugh. When he finally manages to collect himself, he rolls onto his hip, presses his hand to her thigh. "If I tell you a secret, will you tell me one?"

Her eyes narrow. "What kind of secret?"

"Any kind. We'll just ask a question about the other."

"Do I have to answer it?"

Nick shrugs. "We can have one pass each. Is that fair?"

"I guess."

"You can even go first."

"Okay," she replies. "Who was the first girl to—"

"Pass."

Miley rolls back against the mattress. "You didn't even let me finish."

"I already knew what you were going to ask."

"Fine. You're touchy with the personal topics." She taps her finger against her lips, thinking. "I want to know...what the first line that you wrote for my song was."

He swallows. He lowers himself against her, his forehead pressed to her temple. "_I wanna be the right when it's wrong_," he coos into her ear.

Miley looks up at him and almost regrets it. The intensity in his eyes just a bit too much to bear. "Why?"

"The first time we kissed—in Chicago—I was thinking about why we shouldn't be together. How I wanted to be with you, but how I knew that it wouldn't be easy. How something that seemed to be wrong could really be right."

"Do you still think it's wrong?"

"No. Do you?"

She curls her fingers around his jaw. "This feels right to me."

Nick hums low. He wants to kiss her, but he's all too familiar with how easy it is for her to pull him in. "It's my turn, then."

"Go ahead."

"Who was the first guy—"

"Pass."

He smirks. "You didn't let me finish."

"I knew what you were going to ask," she teases.

So they'll have to take this slow, too, he thinks. "Will you let this be different than it was with the others?"

"I...want to," she offers. "I don't know how easy it's going to be though."

"I'll help you."

"I know you will, N.J.. It's just that this, you and me, isn't what I'm used to. I mean, you alone are _completely_ different from everyone else that I—"

"I want you to be my girlfriend."

Miley blinks. "You what?"

"You should think about it, okay? I mean, you don't have to tell me now. I'm going to ask you for real when we get to Florida."

"Why? Why don't you just ask me now?"

"Because I know that this is going to be a change for you, that you've never had this before. And I'm going to treat you the way that you deserve. I'll take such good care of you, but only if you want me to."

"Oh."

He inhales deep. "I'm falling so hard for you, Miley," he confesses, running his blunt fingernails in circles over her leg. "If you don't feel—or aren't starting to feel—the way that I am, I need you to tell me."

"Nick—"

"Not now, though. Not until Florida, okay?"

"Okay," she says. "But you should know that as soon as we get there, I'm going to find you."

Nick grins. "You're gonna run on my bus and tell me?"

"Mhm. Just jump in your bunk and wake you up."

"Everyone will find out."

"I don't care," Miley replies, combing his hair back. "I just want you."

He leans in, presses himself against her as close as he can. "I care, though. I can't keep you with me if they all know."

"Fine. You'll know. As long as you'll know, that's all that matters."

A buzzing sound cuts through the quiet air. Miley reaches around to his pocket, drawing out his phone. "Who is it?" he asks.

"Your dad," she says. "Should I answer it and let him know that you're in my bed?"

"I'm on your bed. Not in it." He pries it from her fingers and stuffs the phone back in his jeans. "He probably thinks I'm still in the ballroom, working on something on the piano."

"Oh. What floor is the ballroom on?"

"This hotel doesn't _have_ a ballroom."

Miley shakes her head. "You are something else."

"I know." He moves over to her bags, taps lightly at her tote. "This is the one you're keeping with you on the bus, right?"

"Yes, and before you ask, my laptop is in there. Juno is lined up in my Netflix queue, just like it is on yours."

"Okay, so call me as soon as you're all set up in your bunk. Then we'll start it at the same time. It'll be like we're watching together."

"I'm not staying on the phone with you for two hours."

"But I want to hear you laugh at all the funny parts."

Miley fights her hardest to resist a smile. Instead, she folds her arms and points at the door. "Go before they start looking for you."

"Promise you'll call."

"Nick, go."

"_Promise_."

"Fine, I'll call. Okay? I'll call." She grabs onto his hand, physically dragging him across the room. "Just go, Nick, before you get in trouble."

"I'm going."

Nick laughs as she shuts the door tight behind him. She can pretend like she doesn't care about him all she wants. He can see right through her.

He unlocks the door to his own room. His bags are against the wall, packed a full hour ago so that his dad would let him _go to the ballroom_. Now, there are another set of suitcases next to them: Joe's.

His brother is just a few feet away. He's casually reclined on the couch, his attention focused on the giant television screen.

"You watching the Yankee game?"

Joe reaches for the remote. Turns the volume louder.

Okay, so he's still giving Nick the silent treatment. That's cool.

He knows he deserves it. He's been to every one of Joe's shows while he's been on the road, except for the one last night. He got so caught up in Miley showing up at his room that he completely forgot that he was supposed to go to the concert. And of course, he couldn't tell Joe where he really was. Not that Joe will give him a chance to explain anyway.

Nick sits in the armchair beside his brother. "It's gonna be weird sleeping on the bus tonight. Haven't done that in almost two weeks."

Joe shuts his eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I know I already told you that, but it's like you don't believe me or something. I honestly had all intentions—"

The door beeps open, and their father walks in. "There you are, Nick. I just called you."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I was just working on something."

"So you're writing a new song?"

"I'm getting there."

"Good." His gaze darts between his two sons before he motions for them. "We're leaving now. Grab your bags so that we can head out."

Nick gets up and moves for his suitcase. He lets Joe take his own first before following him to the door. Of course, Joe lets it shut in his face.

"Smiling faces once we get downstairs," Kevin Sr. says as they head down to the lobby. "There are fans waiting outside."

"Okay," they reply simultaneously.

"Joe, you wanna stop and take some pictures, or get right on the bus?"

Nick's not in the mood to plaster on a fake grin. Joe can tell. That's why he's not surprised when his brother nods. "Yeah, we can stop for a minute or two."

So they go outside and get swallowed in the crowd. Nick's pushed and pulled in different directions. One girl's trying to wrap his arm around her while another presses herself right against his side.

He can't breathe.

Security's main focus, of course, is Joe. They keep the girls off, not letting them swarm him. Instead, they just stick out their arm once he's close enough to snap a quick photo on their phone.

Nick suffers through it for a good five minutes before he's rescued by his dad. Joe's sitting all content at the table on the bus with a big grin on his face. "Well, that was fun."

He scoffs. "Whatever."

"Hey, Nicholas," their dad interjects, "don't be rude."

"I wasn't being rude. I just didn't feel like standing out there and getting mobbed."

"It's over now, Princess. You can chill out."

Nick's jaw drops. "Are you going to say something to him?" he demands, turning to his dad. "He called me a princess. _That's_ rude."

"The two of you need to stop this. You're brothers. By the time we get off this bus in Tampa, you're going to get along again."

Joe scrunches up his face. Grabbing his phone, he stalks off to the back of the bus. "He's the one with the problem," Nick points out. "I'm trying here."

"Maybe you should have tried a little harder to make it to his show."

Nick's never going to hear the end of this.

He follows after his brother. He finds him in the lounge, just sitting there on the sofa. Nick shuffles over. Keeping his eyes on Joe, he sits down next to him. "Can we talk?"

"You can talk. I have nothing to say to you."

He forces himself to not roll his eyes. "I apologize for missing your show in Dallas. You know that I wanted to be there. I was just...tired."

"So you slept through the alarm I set for you?"

No. Nick was already out of the hotel room before the alarm went off.

"Yeah."

"And you didn't hear the hotel manager knocking at your door to let you know that there was a car downstairs?"

He didn't. Nick was in a different car on the way to the restaurant when that happened.

"I guess not."

"They waited thirty minutes for you."

"I'm sorry, Joe. I had a long day, okay? I was exhausted."

"But Mom said that you were so excited to be coming back on the road. That you were starting to get bored just hanging at home."

"I _am_ glad to be back here, Joe. And I'm not going to miss another show. I swear."

"It doesn't matter. I don't trust you anymore."

"Joe—"

"It sucked not having you here," Joe says. "It wasn't the same at all. I tried having a good time with everyone else, and then Miley started acting weird. Did I tell you that she kissed me?"

"Yeah," he mumbles, "you did."

"So she does that, and then she goes completely distant on me. I don't know what I did."

"You didn't do anything, Joe."

"Then, why wouldn't she want to be with me? I'm a decent guy. I'm funny. I'm talented. I could give her anything she wanted."

_Except she doesn't want you_, Nick wants to point out.

"I'm obviously doing something wrong. She gets with someone during every other tour. She joins my tour, and then decides to change?" He sighs. "I don't get it."

"Maybe she thinks you're too good for her."

"Yeah, okay. I'm sure that's it."

Nick reaches out, lightly tapping his brother's knee. "Hey. Don't be so hard on yourself. It's her loss, not yours."

"I just...I really like her, you know?"

Oh, Nick knows. He knows all too well.

"She's cool," Nick says. "But I'm here now, so you don't need her anyway."

Joe smirks. "So I can take you on date nights?"

"No. No date nights. Just hangouts."

He inches closer. "You mean we can't watch romantic comedies together?"

"No."

"Or hold hands?"

"Joe," Nick warns, trying to slide away.

"Or take a midnight stroll under the stars?"

"Joe!"

His brother flings himself into his chest. Nick topples off the couch, landing hard on the carpet with Joe on top of him. "Say you missed me," Joe says, holding Nick's arms over his head.

"I missed you."

"And tell me I'm the most attractive and talented of the Jonas Brothers."

"No way," Nick cries, squirming and kicking beneath him.

"Tell me, or I'm gonna hold you down until we get to Florida."

"Boys?" Kevin Sr. ducks in the room. "Real wrestling or play wrestling?"

"Play wrestling."

"Tell me," Joe says again once their dad is gone.

"You want me to lie to you?"

It only sends them both into laughter. "That's it," Joe replies, sitting on Nick's hips. "You're done for."

"Oh, come on. This isn't fair."

"All you have to do is—what's this?"

Nick's eyes flash down to what's captured his brother's attention. His shirt rode up a bit while Joe was wrestling him around. The material's now high enough to expose the prominent bruise Miley left on his hip.

"Dude," Joe mumbles, touching the discolored skin, "that looks like it hurt."

"Yeah, it...uh...it did."

"How did you get that?"

"I, well, I walked into a door."

"A door?"

"Mhm. Because the doorknob is, like, right at that level. And I wasn't looking, and I just walked into it."

"When?"

"Yesterday," he says. "I got up to use the bathroom in the dark."

"Oh. You must've been really tired then if you didn't see a door. They're pretty hard to miss, Nick."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" Joe gasps. As he moves to lunge forward, Nick pushes on his chest. "You need to get up. I think you're, like, right on top of my bladder, and I really need to pee now."

"Excuses, excuses."

"I'm serious."

"Fine."

Nick scrambles to his feet, rushing for the bathroom. He pulls at his shirt to make sure that it's covering him up. He can't believe that he got away with it. That he was able to make up a story right there on the spot. He's so proud of himself that he doesn't even realize that his phone has slipped out of his pocket. That it's lying on the floor in the back lounge with Miley's name flashing across the screen, right in front of his brother's eyes.


	11. Tampa, Florida

Nick plans on waking up to the sight of Miley. He imagines her bouncing up and down at the side of his bunk, anxiously trying to get to him. So he'd reach over and pull her into his bed. She'd confess all of her feelings, and they'd kiss and cuddle and hide out beneath the sheets until someone would notice they were missing.

Instead, Nick rolls over and finds a girl staring at him.

"Hi there."

"Uh...hi," he mumbles, pulling the blankets up to his neck. "Who are you?"

"I'm Lauren. I...um...I work on Joe's tour."

He doesn't miss the disappointed tone in her voice, like she expected him to recognize her or something. "So what are you doing here?"

"Well, I was supposed to wake you up in fifteen minutes, but I heard you making some kind of noise. I wanted to make sure that you were okay."

"I'm fine."

"That's good."

She flashes him another smile, and it's just getting weird now. Why was he woken up by a stranger? That's Miley's job.

He sits up, clutching the sheets against his skin. Her eyes linger over him anyway. "Where's Miley? She's usually—"

"She's in a meeting."

Oh. "And my dad and Joe?"

"They're at the meeting, too."

Jeez. Did no one think to let Nick know that there was a meeting, and that he'd be abandoned?

"The meeting's in the hotel?"

"Mhm," she replies. "Now, your dad said to make sure that you check yourself as soon as you get up."

"Yeah, yeah," he says. He hops down to his feet and tugs on a sweatshirt. "I'll do that, and then I'll check up on them."

"No, you're supposed to stay on the bus with me."

"Well, I'd like to get off the bus."

"You can later. The hotel is going to bring over breakfast for you. I'll give them a call as soon as you know what you want to eat."

Nick takes a quick glance at the number flashing on his meter before turning back to her. "Wouldn't it be easier to eat _in_ the hotel?"

She sighs. "Joe said you'd probably put up a fight. He wants you to stay here. He thinks you're, like, too attached to her, and that it'd be better for you to not get involved."

Nick's starting to think that he wasn't told about this meeting on purpose.

"What's this meeting about?"

The girl—Lauren—smiles. "Like you don't know."

"I _don't_ know. That's why I asked you."

"You don't know about Miley and your brother?"

"Miley and Joe? What are you—"

"She offered to sleep with him. I mean, not offered. More like she totally _pushed_ herself on him. Joe finally told your dad this morning, and he flipped out."

"But that's—"

That's not true. He knows it's not. And, sure, maybe he questioned Miley a lot before, but he knows that she wouldn't. Not with Joe. Not when she's supposed to be with Nick. She's supposed to be _here_ with Nick.

She didn't know. She didn't know about the meeting. They must've ambushed her this morning.

"Where are they? What floor?"

"The third, but—"

Nick pushes past her. He hops down the stairs, runs the half block to the parking garage, and over to the elevators. He wipes his bare feet on the carpet as he rides up to the third floor. Trying to catch his breath. Trying not to look like a mess, even though he is inside and out.

He notices a couple of Joe's security guys hanging around a pair of doors. "Uh...hi," he says, desperately forcing his voice to sound all nonchalant. "Is Miley still in there?"

The taller of the two shakes his head. "They sent her up to her room. The eighteenth floor, I think."

The other glances at the clipboard in his hand. "Yep, eighteen oh seven."

"Thanks."

"Your brother's upstairs, too. Room eighteen twenty-two."

Nick shouts another 'thanks' over his shoulder as he runs back for the elevators. He probably should've asked about Joe first. But he didn't. Oh well.

He doesn't have to tell his body where to take him. His feet carry him on their own right to her door. His fingers trace the four golden letters imprinted on the wood. His mouth and tongue form the five letters that make up the one word that has changed everything.

"Miley?"

"Nick."

The soft sigh of his name is returned immediately, like she was waiting for him to come to her. Like she knew he wouldn't be able to resist the possibility of seeing her again.

There's a click, and the door opens. She's standing there with her hair in a clean braid, all dressed up in a sweater and jeans. "You're a mess," she says with one glance at him.

"And you're not," he answers, stepping inside.

"I—what are you doing?"

Nick doesn't bother waiting around to answer. He's already scouring her room, looking for something that might give him a clue as to what's going on.

"Nick?"

"What happened?" he asks, turning to face her now. "What did they say to you?"

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Miley. My dad and Joe at the meeting this morning—"

"You know about the meeting?"

"Yes. Now, please explain to me what happened. That's all I want to know."

"It was nothing."

"Liar."

"It was nothing that concerns you. It was between them and me. I can handle it."

"If it involves you, it involves me," he counters. "Let _me_ handle it."

Miley licks her lips, crosses her arms. "I don't want you to get upset."

"Right, because everything's just peaches and cream right now."

She snorts. And for a moment, it all seems okay. But that moment passes too soon. "Joe...he told your dad that I tried to sleep with him."

"Why? Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. I got the call this morning that I had to go in for a meeting, and that's when they told me. But it's not true, Nick, okay? Not now. Not since you and I—"

"I know. I know it's not."

Her head tilts to the side. "You believe me?"

"Yeah."

She breaks. Just like that, she's falling apart before him. Her eyes welling up and spilling over with tears. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm sorry for letting this happen."

"But you didn't do anything," he soothes, collecting the pieces of her in his arms. "Miley, you told me nothing happened with him."

"I know."

"So what happened when you told them that?"

"I didn't."

His fingers pause on her back. "What do you mean you didn't? You didn't say anything?"

"Who was going to believe me? I have no proof. It's your brother's word against mine."

"That doesn't mean he's right."

"It doesn't mean I am, either."

"But you are."

"But they don't know that."

"So why didn't you _tell_ them?"

"Because they wouldn't _believe_ me."

And it's all just one endless circle.

"I did this to myself," she confesses. "If I hadn't—if I hadn't done this before, with other guys on other tours, it wouldn't be like this. Nobody would doubt me."

"Then let me say something. I'll tell my dad that you were always with me. I mean, you _are_ my babysitter."

"It's not babysitting." Miley looks up at him. "Nick, there isn't a way that we can convince your dad without exposing ourselves. I'm not going to let you do that. I'm not going to let you turn against Joe either."

"I'm not going to let him get away with this. It's not fair."

"I don't think we have another option. We're just going to have to wait it out and see what he decides."

Nick blinks. "What who is deciding?"

"Your dad—as to whether or not I can stay."

"No, you're not leaving. You said that there was no way that they could make you leave."

"Unless they don't give me a choice."

He shakes his head. "But my dad isn't your boss."

"If he tells my boss that I tried to do something with Joe when he didn't want to, I'm pretty sure that I'll be gone. Your dad was _pissed_, Nick."

"And what was Joe doing the whole time?"

"I don't know. I couldn't even look at him."

Nick pulls away. "That's it, then. I'm going to talk to him."

"Don't," she says. "You're only going to make it worse."

"How am I going to make it worse?"

"Look, I obviously did something to piss him off. What if your dad lets him decide what happens with me? If I stay quiet, maybe he'll give me another chance."

He frowns. "I don't get it, Miley. You're not even putting up a fight."

"Because I love my job. If this whole situation blows up, I'll never be able to find work again. I thought if I just apologized, they might spare me a bit of humiliation."

"You apologized?"

"Of course, I did."

"But you had nothing to be sorry for."

"It's not that simple."

"It is. You don't apologize for things you didn't do. That's it."

"See?" She sighs. "This is why I didn't want to tell you in the first place. I knew that you'd get all worked up."

"Let me—"

"No. I'm not going to let you do anything. I don't _want_ you to do anything." Miley pushes on his shoulders, sitting him on the edge of the bed. "Just stop. Please."

Her voice splits on that last word. Before either of them know it, she's crying again. And Nick hates it. He hates it more than anything. So he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her near, resting his head against her stomach as her hands rake through his hair.

He sits and holds her, a physical reminder that he's there even if she doesn't feel like talking.

And it's not fair. It's not fair for Joe to make up this cruel and twisted lie to take Miley away from him. When she leaves, she'll be taking everything with her. Nick will be left with nothing.

"Easy," she murmurs, loosening his grip on her. "You're holding me so tight."

"I'm sorry."

Miley tries her best to smile even though Nick still refuses to look at her. "It's going to be okay. I don't want you to worry."

"It's all my fault," he mumbles into the soft fabric of her sweater. "If I hadn't kissed you, none of this would have happened."

"You never would've done anything if I hadn't made the first move. I was the one who said something."

"And I was the one who acted on it."

"Then we're both to blame."

"I'm sorry," he says again.

"Don't be," she replies. "If you're sorry, then it means that you regret this."

"But I don't."

"So don't apologize." Miley cups his face in her hands, tilts his head back to look him in the eyes. "I don't want to spend my last day like this. If they're going to make me leave, I don't want to remember crying in my hotel room and hearing you tell me that you're sorry."

"Okay."

He's so naive and innocent and young sometimes that it catches her off-guard. Makes her want to laugh. Makes her happy.

"_Kiss me_, you idiot."

"Oh."

A warm blush swallows up his pale skin. He reaches up for her sweater, fists it tight and pulls her to his lap. Nick's mouth ghosts over hers first. Feels the familiar smoothness of her lips. Then he claims them with his own.

He's going to miss this. Just kissing her. He thinks back to the first time, how they were all rushed, worrying that it'd never happen again. Now, he just wants to make this last. He never wants to forget the way she feels. How she makes him feel.

"I'm not staying," he says as she pushes him flat against the bed. "If they make you leave, I'm leaving, too."

"Don't be stupid, Nick."

"I'm not. I don't want to be here without you."

"You'll be fine," she says, stretching her arms over her head.

"Will _you_?" he asks, tugging off her sweater.

Miley blinks. Of course, she'll be fine. She's done this before. She's well-versed in the language of goodbye.

So she'll go and find someone else. Like always. The walls built up around her heart have never been broken, and she'll be damned if Nick Jonas is the one to smash them down. Because this time isn't any different from any of the others.

_It's not._

_It is._

_Stop._

She presses her mouth back to Nick's, silencing the argument in her head. Miley moves to her hands and knees and coaxes him along with her as she moves across the bed. And once they're there, she gets him on his back again and brings his hands to the button on her jeans.

He groans softly as he pries the denim off her hips. Miley kicks them the rest of the way off, and then Nick flips her beneath him. And he can't help but groan again. He climbs between her open legs, eager to get to all of her.

"You're wearing too much," she says suddenly, throwing him off track. Nick steadies himself on his knees as Miley pulls up his sweatshirt. "All of these layers."

"I wasn't wearing all of this before, but this girl—"

He winces, hoping he somehow stopped himself before Miley heard. No such luck. "What girl?" she asks.

"The girl on the bus this morning." He sighs. "Lauren."

"I see. They've picked out my replacement already."

"She'd never be able to replace you. No one could. Besides, I'm leaving anyway, so they won't need someone else."

Miley yanks him down to her, rolls over so that they're face to face. "You have to stay."

"I don't have to do anything."

"What are you going to do sitting at home? At least you can work on your music here."

"I need inspiration to work on my music. That means I need you."

Smiling, she runs her fingers along the line of his jaw. "You can still get a song out of this, N.J.. It just won't be a happy one."

"No."

Miley leans over him. "You're so stubborn," she says, kissing his forehead.

He tilts his head back. Pursing his lips, he looks up at her with those all too innocent eyes. She gets the hint. Their mouths meet in a bruising kiss, desperate and needy and afraid.

She's going to miss this. The way that he dissolves beneath her touch in a matter of seconds. How she can feel the way all of the muscles in his body seize up at the feel of her fingers. Even now, as she slides them under his shirt, his heart thumps wildly in response, ready to burst from his chest.

He whimpers suddenly as she nips at that spot beneath his ear. It's a sound she never wants to forget. She wants to remember how she found his weakness, even if he found hers, too.

"Miley," he hisses.

With a gasp, she pulls back. Nick sits up, rubs at the side of his neck. At the spot where her mouth was just occupied.

Nick whines as she brushes his fingers away. "Oh," she says, now getting a good look at the bruising skin. "Oh, God, I'm sorry."

"Is it bad?"

It is. It's going to get worse, too. "Don't worry," Miley tells him as she gets up. "I'll take care of it. I'll get some ice."

"What should I—"

"Just stay here. Lie down."

She leaps to her feet and runs into the adjoining kitchen area. Grabbing a towel, she wraps up a couple of ice cubes from the mini fridge. She's halfway back to the bedroom when she hears a knock at the door.

"Here," she says as she climbs up to Nick's side. "I need you to hold this against your neck."

He inhales sharp and loud as it makes contact with his skin. "Where are you going?"

"There's someone here."

"You can't—"

"I have to." Miley tugs on her jeans, throws on her sweater. "Don't move, okay? Don't make a sound."

"But—"

"Shh," she murmurs, quieting him with a kiss. "Stay just like this."

She goes before he can get another word in. She shuts the bedroom door tight behind her and moves for the other. With a deep breath, Miley grabs the handle, pushes down on it.

"_Joe_."

"Hi," he replies, a bit sharp. "Can I come in?"

"No. You can leave."

Joe slips his foot between them, preventing her from shutting him out. "I think you and I need to have a talk."

"_I think_ you need to go."

"Fine. I just came by to see if you knew where Nick was."

Miley swallows. "I was at the meeting this morning," she says. "You know, the one that I was dragged into because of you. We both know that Nick wasn't there."

"But I know that Lauren—your replacement—was with him this morning. Apparently, he was trying to find you. She called me to let me know that he ran off the bus for the hotel." Joe pushes the door open, steps inside, and lets it close. "He wouldn't happen to be in here, would he?"

He knows, she realizes. He knows about her and Nick. And it's not a coincidence that he figured all of this out at the same time that she's being threatened with losing her job.

"You're an ass."

Joe recoils. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Now, get out."

"I just got here."

"And I want you to go."

"But—"

"_Joe_."

Joe's eyes immediately flash to the left. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"I've got to be kidding you?" Nick snaps as he crosses the room. "What the hell are you doing, Joe? Is this some kind of joke?"

"Is this?" he retorts, waving between them. "What are you doing with her, Nick?

"Hey, I'm right here." Miley stands a bit taller, feels a bit stronger with Nick next to her. "Tell me why you're doing this. If you're going to stay, then I want to know."

Her comment catches Joe off-guard. "This really isn't about you. It's about me and Nick."

"Me? You have a problem with me, and you try to get Miley fired?"

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"What _else_ were you supposed to do?"

He's pulled back right before he lunges forward, Miley's grip tight on his fingers. "Calm down. You have to calm down."

Nick breathes in deep, tries to stay composed as Joe glares at him. Wills his mind to think of anything but beating the shit out of his brother.

"So what did I do?" he asks. "What did I do to make you come up with this brilliant plan to get rid of Miley?"

Joe blinks. "You did the same thing that you always do. You got exactly what you wanted."

"What?"

"You knew I wanted to get with Miley, and then you decided to go after her yourself."

"I'm a person, you know," she says, chiming in. "I can make up my own mind as to who I want to be with."

"You wouldn't have even considered him if he had just stayed in line."

"I can't believe you're trying to get me fired because of that." She's the one to lunge for him this time. Nick moves just in time to loop an arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground. "This is my job, you asshole. This isn't a fucking game."

"Miley—"

"No, it's fine, Nick," Joe says, sitting down across from them. "Let her say what she wants."

Put me _down_, Nick," Miley argues as she thrashes around in his hold. "Let me at him."

"Enough. I get that you're both pissed, but this isn't helping." He sets Miley down on her feet, grabbing onto her shoulders before she can get away. "Sit down, okay?"

"I don't want to sit."

"Miley, I'm trying to help you. Don't push me away, and don't do something stupid. Sit down in the chair so we can talk this over."

She grunts, but complies. She sits in the armchair across from Joe with her arms folded tight over her chest. She's angry and hurt and would do anything to get as far away from him as possible.

But Nick wants her to stay, so she will.

"I hate you," Miley says to Joe instead. "I'm sorry I even kissed you that one time. And before you get your hopes up, it wasn't even a real kiss. I only did it to throw suspicion off me and Nick."

Joe narrows his eyes. "Wait. How long has this been going on for?"

"Like you don't know."

"I don't."

"How did you find out in the first place?"

"All right, all right," Nick interrupts. "One question at a time, okay?" Nick sits on the armrest of Miley's chair, stealing a quick look at her before facing his brother. "It started in Chicago."

"Chicago? That was over a month ago."

"I know."

"You kept it from me for that long?"

"We kept it from everyone. No one was supposed to know."

"Until I found out."

"How _did_ you find out?" Miley asks again.

"When you called him last night," Joe answers, glancing away. "I saw your name on his phone, and I was wondering why you were calling him so late. I didn't answer, but I went through his inbox and all his messages were from you."

"You went through my texts?"

"I was curious, okay? I wanted to figure out what was going on. And, man, was I surprised. I mean, you have _pictures_ of her on there."

"It's one picture, and I'm wearing my clothes. Seriously, it's not that scandalous."

"He's eighteen."

"Exactly."

"So you should've known better."

"Do you honestly think that I came on this tour thinking that this would happen? If I was gonna hook up with anyone, it was going to be you."

Joe licks his lips. "It was?"

"Well, yeah. This thing with Nick—it kind of just happened."

"It happened because he always has to get his way."

"Hey, I saw her first."

"Boys." Miley reaches back, presses her hand to Nick's chest. "Take it easy."

"Dude, I told you that I wanted her that first day in L.A. When we saw her at that breakfast meeting, I told you."

"And I wanted her, too."

"You liked Bathroom Babe."

"Miley _was_ Bathroom Babe."

A soft squeak escapes her lips. "Wait a second. Are you talking about when you walked in on me in the men's room?"

"Yes," Nick admits. "I told Joe about you, and that I—that I kind of liked you."

"Oh my God," she gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. "And you didn't tell me until Chicago?"

"Because I knew that Joe... I knew that he liked you, and I knew that I wasn't any real competition. You wouldn't want me when you could have him."

The room stays quiet for a minute or two. Then Miley pipes up again. "I can't believe you didn't say anything. We were alone all the time. You had so many chances."

"I know."

He ducks his head down, trying to hide his flushed face. Sure, Miley knows how he feels about her. He's told her time and time again. Hell, he even wrote a song for her. But he's still kind of embarrassed for her to find out just how long he was harboring feelings for her, especially for her to find out in front of his brother.

"You shouldn't be mad at him, Joe," she says, breaking the silent air. "It's both of our faults."

Nick holds her gaze. She looks back right at him, the corners of her lips tugging into a smile. Then she does that thing with her nose and he laughs. And all he really wants to do is grab her and kiss her until that smile imprints on his own mouth.

"Ahem."

But then he remembers Joe is here, too.

"Sorry," Nick says. "I'm sorry if you think that I did this on purpose, but I didn't. I tried really, really hard not to let this happen."

"Yeah, I get it. I mean, if I knew that Miley was Bathroom Babe, then this wouldn't have been such a surprise."

"Because...I always get what I want?"

Joe nods. "It's not fair sometimes. This is supposed to be _my_ time. A few months set aside to focus on my music career. But I invited you along because you were so upset when you found out. And Dad seems more focused on you writing new songs than about me performing my own every night. And now there's this whole thing with Miley." He sighs. "It'd be nice if I could have things my way, you know?"

Nick blinks. "If you didn't want me to come, you could've told me. You didn't have to invite me out here with you."

"I wanted you to be happy."

"Don't you think that I want that for you?"

"I'm not sure anymore."

He licks his lips, inhales again. "Stop being dumb, Joe. You're my brother."

"Apparently, that doesn't mean anything to you, Nick. You bailed on me for two weeks to protect your secret relationship. You couldn't even bother to make it to my concert last night because of Miley. It's obvious who you've chosen."

"This isn't an either or situation."

"What if it was?"

"Then I'd pick you."

It's a lie that no one believes.

"Maybe I should go," Miley says as she stands. "I'll...um...go in the other room and let you two talk."

"I don't—"

"I'm not going anywhere else. Don't worry."

She squeezes his shoulder in reassurance before moving for the door. He hears the soft click as it shuts back in place, and he already feels uneasy letting her go on her own.

"I don't get it, Nick. What happened to you?"

"I don't know," he murmurs. "I just—I can't help it."

"Are you in love with her?"

"No. No, we haven't even been together for two months."

"But she's your girlfriend?"

"No," Nick admits. "She's not."

"You wrote that song though. I'm assuming now that it was for her."

"It was. It is. Look, I don't know exactly what we are to each other. I don't know what I mean to her. But I know that there's something there. And if I lose that something, I'm going to lose everything."

Joe shakes his head. "Nick, you're not listening to yourself. You've never talked about a girl—about anyone—like this before."

"Because this is different."

"You're getting caught up in some kind of fantasy. Maybe you thought you didn't stand a chance with her, but now that you have her, this is spiraling out of control, man."

"It's not."

"I'm just worried—"

"Don't," Nick snaps. "Don't worry about me. Don't worry about us. I can take care of it."

Joe scoffs, reaches forward to press his thumb hard against the bruise on Nick's neck. "It's from her," he says as Nick winces. "Just like the one on your hip."

He stays quiet.

"And that was such bullshit you fed me yesterday. How Miley thought she was too good for me. How she didn't _deserve_ someone like me." Joe sneers. "Guess you were right. She decided to settle for you."

Nick's fists ball up at his sides. "Get out."

"Oh, I'm going. But, you know what, Miley's gonna stay. I'll make sure she does. And you can wake up everyday knowing that you have her. Then, at the same time, you'll remember that you've lost me."

Nick assumes Joe slams the door pretty hard behind him because Miley pops her head out of her room a second later. "What happened?" she asks. "What did you say? What did he say?"

"It doesn't matter. It's over."

"I tried listening through the door. I couldn't hear everything."

"Don't worry. Joe's gonna talk to my dad. It's going to be fine."

"I'm just—"

"You're not going anywhere. I won't let them take you away."

She leans up into him. "They're looking for you. Joe said Lauren was asking about you. And she just called me."

"Oh, right. I forgot about her."

"She's been worrying."

"What did you tell her then?"

"That you were with Joe. Which was true because you were with him when she called."

"Now I'm with you."

"Mhm. I should use you as a bargaining chip. That they can only have you back if they let me keep my job."

"But you wouldn't want to give me back, would you?"

Miley pushes up on her toes, kisses his bruise, feels him go a little weak at the knees. "C'mon," she says, reaching for his hand.

It's a little while later when they're underneath the sheets that they hear Miley's ringtone go off. They groan at the interruption, but climb out from the covers. Each takes a side of the bed, checking which side of the mattress her jeans ended up on. Miley finds them on hers and gasps loud as she pulls her phone from her pocket.

"Your dad's calling."

"So answer."

"Hello?" she chirps.

Nick pulls himself up against the headboard as Miley walks across the room. Her one arm covers her bare chest while the other keeps her phone to her ear. He's not exactly sure what she's saying. But he guesses the conversation takes a turn for the better when she starts dancing around on her toes.

"They're letting me stay," she exclaims, jumping on top of him. "Your dad said Joe took everything back. That it was supposed to be a stupid, cruel joke or something. And then he said that he was sorry."

He smiles. "You're staying."

"We're both staying right here." She tips her mouth down to his, kissing him sweetly. "I like this better, you know. Fighting with you instead of against you."

"Yeah," he says, bringing her into the blankets with him, "me too."

And he knows he's won the battle, but this war with Joe is far from over.

* * *

**Ugh. Sorry that I suck at updating. I know it's been over a month since I posted the last chapter, so you guys really need to get on me for that haha. If you're even still reading this...**


	12. New York, New York

"Are you ready yet?"

"No."

"How about now?"

"No."

"Now?"

"No," Miley shouts back. "I'm still not ready, Nick."

He huffs. Leaning against the headboard of her bed, Nick continues to flip through the magazine he found on top of her dresser. Glamour. Or Vogue. Or something like that.

"I don't get what's taking so long," he says. He tugs open a flap on one of the pages, sniffing the sample of perfume. "You've been in there for over an hour."

"It takes time to look good."

"It seems like it comes naturally to you."

As expected, the bathroom door opens. The smirk just momentarily present on Nick's face melts away as Miley does a slow spin for him. His eyes wander from the soft curls bouncing on her shoulders to the cleavage exposed from the deep V of her black dress to her long, lean legs.

"Yep," she replies, "I wake up in the morning and look just like this."

He licks his lips. "Guess I know where I'm sleeping tonight, then."

"In your own room."

"And miss waking up to the sight of this?"

Miley grins. "I was going to ask if I looked all right, but I think your reaction already gave me your answer."

"Well, in case you have any doubts, you look absolutely stunning. I don't even think you should be allowed out."

"_Allowed_?"

Nick flushes. "I just—I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea. And I won't be able to be with you, so I guess I'm just..."

"I can take care of myself. I've told you that."

"But Joe—"

"—Will keep his hands to himself. Otherwise, he knows that I'll tell his little brother, who will in turn beat the shit out of him."

He glances away. His mind flashes to that last confrontation he had with Joe, how all he wanted to do was punch him. Just one clean shot. And it terrified him. It still does.

"Stop worrying," Miley says as she swings a leg over his hips.

"I'm not worrying."

She runs her thumb over his temple. "You are."

"I think he did it on purpose, you know," he says. "He chose to have this big, extravagant, end of tour party because he knew that we'd have to stay apart."

"If I was still—"

"Yeah, well, you're not. It's not your job anymore."

Miley frowns. In the aftermath of the whole scandal with Joe, Mr. Jonas decided that Miley deserved a promotion for the misunderstanding. She's now assistant to Joe, a position that most of the girls on the crew are jealous of. Except Lauren. Not that Miley can blame her. She's the one who gets to look after Nick now.

"I'd rather be there with you. You know that."

"Except you can't because you're Joe's date."

"I'm not his date."

"Right. You're just the girl who'll be on his arm all night. The one he'll be showing everyone off to."

She shakes her head. "I'm not sure if it's possible, but I think you're even more attractive when you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous."

Sighing, Miley slips her hands to the underside of his thighs, tugging so that he's lying down beneath her. "All we have to do is get through a couple of hours at a party. Then, we can come back to my room and—"

"I'm not sleeping here."

"You wanted to."

"I was joking."

"You were serious, and so am I." She presses her lips soundly to his. "We have a whole month off before Joe's tour starts up in Europe. I think we should make the most of tonight."

"Miley—"

Her fingers curl around the ring hanging from his neck. "I didn't mean it like that, N.J. I'm saying that we can have some fun. Make some last minute memories."

"I think it'd be better if we didn't. We should just say goodbye and let it be."

"But if I know that I'll see you later, it'll be easier to say goodbye now."

"Oh, right, because you and I have always done things the easy way."

She smiles. "Shut up."

"I'm just saying."

"Well, if you stop, we could do something else instead."

"No. No, I really have to go. If we start something now—"

"Fine," she groans, letting him free, "go. We'll go to the party separately, and then sleep in our rooms separately. I mean, I guess it'll be good practice considering I won't see you until we get to Sweden. I'll have to _Google you_ just to remember what you look like."

Nick laughs. "Is that you're way of saying that you're going to miss me?"

Miley glances away. "Maybe."

"I'll miss you, too. We'll keep in touch, though."

"Like we did when you went home to L.A.?"

"Mhm. It might help if you send me more pictures this time. You know, since we'll be separated longer."

"Right. Of course. Pictures," she teases. "I'll see what I can do. It might help if you send me clips of songs that you write while you're there."

"Who said I was going to write anything?"

"You have four weeks. I'm sure you'll come up with something."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm more inspired when I'm around you."

"I wasn't with you when you wrote 'My Love.'"

"I was thinking about you. All the time."

"Well, we'll just have to make sure that that happens again." Miley loops her arms around his shoulders. "If you stay here tonight, I'll guarantee you won't forget me."

Nick swallows. "I'm not staying. Stop trying to make me change my mind."

"I haven't even started to try. And trust me, I could make it happen if I really wanted to."

"Funny how you think you know me so well."

"Funny how you think I don't."

He holds her gaze for another moment, clinging tight to the sight of her blue eyes. Then, he leans forward, presses his lips quick to hers. "Goodnight."

"You really can't stay another five minutes? Come on."

"If you hadn't taken so long in the bathroom, we would've had more time together."

"Way to make this my fault."

"I'm kidding," he says. "And the time was well spent, anyway. You really do look beautiful."

"Thanks." Her palm presses to his cheek, strokes the smooth skin there. "I'll see you at the party, then."

"Yeah, okay."

"Don't have too much fun without me."

He grins. Lifting his hand from the doorknob, he turns back to her. "You know, maybe I could fake that I'm sick. If I can't go, I'd need someone to stay back with me. There's no way that my dad would trust Lauren—"

"You're going to the party, and so am I. Of course, if neither of us can help ourselves, we may have to sneak off somewhere to make out for a couple of minutes."

"Too risky."

"Or you could just sleep here tonight."

"I can't."

"You can." Miley pushes herself up against him, feels his hands reach for her hips to steady her. "You can even help me out of my dress when we get back. I think that's something you should be interested in, considering I'm not wearing anything underneath."

He groans low. "You're lying."

"Am I?" She reaches for one of his hands, presses it to the skin right below the hemline of her dress. "You can call my bluff if you'd like."

"Don't do this to me."

As his fingers start inching up, Miley pushes them away. "Ha," she cheers, catching the surprised look in his eyes. "I guess I do know you pretty well after all."

"You—"

"Time for you to go." Grinning, she shoves him out to the hall. "Goodnight."

"Miley!"

And even though he's on the other side of the door, she can picture him clearly. Hands in his pockets as he strides down the hall, that infamous smirk back on his face.

* * *

"I can't put in words how excited I was when I found out that I got this job. I mean, honestly, working on your brother's tour is, like, the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"That's great."

"Did I tell you how long I've been a fan of you guys? I've seen you on tour every year."

Nick nods, traces his finger over the lip of his glass. "Awesome. I'm glad you like our music."

Lauren sighs. "I'm not boring you, am I?"

_What would ever give you that idea?_, he thinks. They've been at the party for a couple of hours, and Nick's already heard her entire life story. From growing up in California, to majoring in Communications and Public Relations. And now she's reached the point where she got hired for Joe's tour. He could honestly care less.

Instead, he offers her a smile. A close-lipped one. "No. Not at all. It's just this whole club thing isn't really my scene."

"Yeah, I know you're not much of a dancer."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that at your concerts and stuff, you kind of just do these awkward moves and—" Her hand clamps over her mouth. "God, I'm sorry. It just came out. Sometimes I don't know when to shut up."

"It's okay. I—"

She picks up her napkin, starts waving it like a fan. "I'm totally messing this up. I've waited forever to have a real conversation with you, and this is so embarrassing." Lauren twists around in her chair, looks frantically over her shoulder. "Where's Miley?"

Nick's been wondering the same thing. He hasn't seen her all night. Joe's clearly intent on keeping her to himself. That douche.

"You don't have to worry about Miley," he says. "You're doing fine on your own."

Her eyes widen. "Really?"

"Mhm. I'm having fun."

"Are you sure? I can take you back to the hotel if you want."

Nick shakes his head.

"How about a dance, then? I can show you a few of my moves."

Her fingers suddenly curl around his wrist and tug. Okay. When did this happen? What happened to the girl who was nervous and uncomfortable? And, most importantly, why is she touching him?

"Everything okay over here?"

Nick lets out a gasp in relief as familiar fingers grasp his shoulder. He tilts his head back and grins at the sight of his savior. "Hi."

"Hi," Miley replies. "I just thought I'd check in on you two. Are you doing all right, Lauren?"

Nodding, her hands retreat to her lap. "Yeah, I'm doing better now." She scoots in. "He's allowed to drink, right? I mean, it's only beer, but he's underage and he has diabetes."

"He's fine," Miley says, subtly running her nails over the back of his neck. "Just watch him though. A few too many and he gets sloppy."

"_Miley_."

"And you?" she asks, turning to him now. "You're all right?"

"Mhm. I'm doing better now, too." He knows the comment was risky, but he just wanted to get a reaction from Miley. And seeing her smile made it all worth it.

"Good. I was actually hoping that I could steal you for a second. I think I lost your brother."

"You lost Joe?" Lauren blurts out. "How could you—?"

Miley waves her off. "I'm sure he's around somewhere. I could just use some help."

"Where did you lose him?" Nick asks as he stands.

"In the other room. Come on. I'll show you."

"Wait." Lauren jumps up, reaches again for Nick. "I'll go with you. I'm supposed to keep an eye on Nick."

"I'll take care of him."

"But you lost Joe. If you lose Nick, too, _I'll_ be the one who gets in trouble."

"You don't have to worry. I promise he'll be safe." She tugs him over, moving him just out of Lauren's grasp. "Just stay here in case Joe shows up."

"Okay, but don't take too long. Like, if you could bring him back in five minutes—"

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

He's dragged away before Lauren can get another word in. "She seems pretty worried, Miley," Nick says as they move.

"She doesn't have to be. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"It might be easier if we split up, though. We'll find Joe faster that way."

"Ugh, you idiot," she groans. "I didn't lose Joe."

"He's not with you."

"I told him that I had to use the bathroom. Wait. Over here."

Nick's jerked back. She's pulling him in another direction now, down a dark, abandoned hallway. "Are we supposed to be here?"

"Relax, N.J.. You're so paranoid sometimes."

She pushes open a door. Then, they're outside, standing by a couple of trash cans. He sniffs the air and grimaces. "Well, this is nice."

"I just wanted to get you alone."

"Oh, you did?" Nick grins, leans forward to kiss her. Only to be shoved back against the building. "_Ow_. What was that for?"

"Tell me what happened with Lauren."

"Nothing. We were talking. Or, really, she was just talking."

He doesn't care about Lauren. He's heard enough _from_ her, and he definitely doesn't want to be talking _about_ her. So if he could kiss Miley now, it'd be great.

"Miley," he hisses as she pushes him away again. "What the hell? Did you bring me out here so that you could physically abuse me?"

She ignores him. "Her hands were on you."

"She was touching my wrist. She was trying to get me to dance with her."

"She should know better. You suck at dancing."

"You said I was a good slow dancer."

"You were going to slow dance with her?"

"No, I wasn't." Nick frowns. "Why are you so upset?"

"I'm not upset."

"You're jealous."

"Of who?" she exclaims. "Lauren?"

"You came over because she was touching me."

"I was trying to protect you. I know you don't like that physical contact stuff."

"I didn't even see you watching us."

"I have eyes everywhere."

Nick laughs, licks his lips. "You're crazy."

"Look who's talking. I can't even imagine what you would do if you saw Joe touching me."

"He was touching you?"

Miley rolls her eyes. "Told you so."

"You didn't answer my question."

"He didn't do anything. It was a hypothetical situation." She exhales, twirls her finger through her hair. "How are we supposed to survive the rest of tour like this? When we come back, it's going to be different. I'm going to be spending more time with Joe. You'll be spending more time with Lauren."

"It's not like we'll never see each other. We'll make time."

"How? What excuse are we going to come up with?"

"Why do we need an excuse? We're friends. We're allowed to hang out."

"People are going to speculate. And Joe could say something."

Nick shakes his head. "He hasn't said anything yet. If he was going to, I think he would have by now."

"Unless he's going to hold it over us forever."

"Miley, come on. He's wouldn't do that."

"How do you know? You're not even speaking to him."

"Okay, can we just slow down for a second?" he asks, holding up his hands in surrender. "I feel like this conversation wasn't supposed to go this way. We were talking about Lauren before, and now we're talking about us."

And then he sees it change. It's all in her eyes. That switch that flipped because he said that little, two-letter word.

He tries to reach out for her. She slithers towards the door. "Hold on a second. Miley, just wait."

"You know, maybe this is too much," she says, backing away. "Maybe this is a sign that we should take a break."

"What is? The fact that we don't want to share each other with anyone else?"

"That's not what I—"

"You don't want me near Lauren. I don't want you near Joe. I want you with _me_, Miley. I always want that."

"You can't have that. Whether you like it or not, I'm going to be with Joe. That's it."

"I don't get what you're so afraid of. We can make this work if we want it to."

"Well, maybe _we_ don't want that."

"Miley—"

She stops, takes one last look over her shoulder. "You were right. This wasn't supposed to go this way. I wanted to bring you out here because I _was_ jealous. You look so good with your hair slicked back like that and all dressed up in your suit. I just wanted to make out with you."

"And to get me away from Lauren."

"You ruined it," she retorts. "You and your stupid words. You can never shut up."

"_You_ never want to talk at all. If we did things your way, we'd just be attached to each other all the time."

"Right. Because this thing was totally physical. We never even had sex."

"Oh, so that's a problem, too. I wouldn't sleep with you."

"Exactly. That's exactly what I wanted. You know, because that's what I do. I'm Miley, and I sleep with all the guys. That's all I'm after." She pulls the door open. "You're such a dick."

He stands there, just stares right back at her. "You're letting him win, you know. This is what he wanted. To tear us apart. If you go back in there with him—"

"That _is_ where I'm going."

"Don't. Don't leave."

Her fingers pause on the doorknob. "Nick."

"I know I'm bad with words sometimes, okay? I know I say the wrong thing, or I say too much. I'm sorry, but I'm not the best at expressing myself all the time."

"Yeah, I'm aware of that."

"I'm trying, though. And if you could—if you could try talking to me instead of running away when things get hard—"

"I'm not running away." But then she remembers that she's standing in front of an open door, poised to make her dramatic exit. So she shuts it. "I'm right here."

"Stay, then. Stay with me."

"Well, I can't stay out here all night. I'm going to freeze."

He rolls his eyes, not surprised that she's trying to joke her way out of the situation. "Hey, you know I'm not too good at the whole physical thing. Maybe if you let me help you with the whole talking thing, you can help me, too."

She's confused. Does he really not think he knows what he's doing? She's fairly convinced that his mouth is perfection. And don't get her started on his hands.

"Okay," she says instead. "I'll try."

"Okay." He takes in a quick breath, leans in to kiss her quick. "And I'm sorry for before. If I said anything that upset you, I didn't mean it."

"Yeah, me either."

Miley pulls him back down to her, and somehow, everything feels better now. Like kissing him is infinitely greater than storming out and leaving angry threats between them.

"I should go," he says. "Lauren will be looking for me. I don't want you to get in trouble."

"Right. Yeah, you should."

"I'll see you."

Miley nods, exhales loud once he's gone. Leaning back against the door, Miley shuts her eyes. This is bad. This has never happened before. She's never felt—

It's his fault. She keeps screwing things up, and he's the one who always wants to fix it. Talk things out. Make it better. She couldn't care less if he let her go tonight. It didn't matter whether or not he wanted her to stay.

Except she really wanted to. She likes being around him. She likes feeling—

_Ugh. Enough with the feelings, Miley._

She pushes the door open, makes a left down the hall. She moves straight for the table on the far side of the bar. The one where Joe's been sitting.

He looks up as she pulls out the chair next to him. "Where have you been? I was about to go looking for you."

"The bathroom. I told you that."

"For ten minutes?"

"There was a long line, okay? Jeez, what's with you Jonas boys and your constant need to—"

The second it leaves her lips, she regrets it. She knows he's caught on. He's not stupid.

"Nick was in the bathroom, too? How convenient."

"He wasn't in the bathroom," she sneers. "I had a three minute conversation with him. That's all."

"Tell me more."

"There's nothing to say."

"You seem...upset," he says, leaning closer. "What'd he do? Come on. I love stories where my brother makes an idiot of himself."

"Nick's not an idiot."

"That's cute. You're defending him."

"It's not like I'm mad at him. I'm mad at myself."

"Yourself? Wow." Joe drops his hand to her knee. "What happened?"

"Nothing that has to do with you." She jerks her leg, shaking him off. "Leave me alone."

"You were actually kind of pleasant before you left." He sighs. "You shouldn't have wasted your time with him. He's so dramatic and moody all the time. If you were with me, it'd be a lot more carefree."

"I'm sure," she deadpans.

"It would. Nick likes to complicate things, gets all emotional. I don't. I don't think you do, either."

"Why would I _want_ to complicate things?"

Joe shrugs. "Some people are into that. All of the work and effort that go into relationships. I like keeping things easy."

There it is. That four letter word that's been haunting her all day. All she's ever wanted is to make things easy. To keep things easy. She's done that her whole life, and hey, it's worked out pretty well so far.

But maybe that's because she's never tried anything else. Easy is safe. Easy is comfortable. And being with Nick doesn't make her feel either of those things. It's complicated and stressful and frustrating. She's constantly afraid of saying or doing something to mess it all up.

It's good being with him, too, though. God, it's so good sometimes. Like when she's pressed up against him, huddled beneath his bigger, stronger, frame. Or when he's watching a baseball game and gets all into it, hunched over and biting at his lip as each pitch is thrown. Or when he's playing her something on his guitar. And the way he looks at her, it's like the world could be completely depleted of oxygen but she wouldn't know because all she's focused on is him.

It's hard.

"So what about you?" Joe asks, his fingers slipping back to her knee. "Do you like keeping things easy?"

* * *

It's nearly four in the morning by the time the party ends. Miley lost track of time a while ago. She excused herself after that conversation with Joe, needed to get some air. Needed to figure things out. So she stood outside until someone found her and told her it was time to go.

She's slipping on her coat when she sees him. He's standing off to the side, glancing at his phone. And then she realizes exactly what she has to do. What she wants to do.

Miley walks over to him, conviction in her step. He only notices her once she's right in front of him. "What are—"

"Yes."

He blinks. "I...um...what?"

Miley grins. "You said you wanted me to be your girlfriend. I know that it was a while ago and that you wanted to ask me officially, but I just wanted to give you my answer."

"You—" Nick starts. "Your answer is yes?"

"Yes."

"Miley—"

"Shh," she says, squeezing his jaw. "Let me talk now. I've been thinking about this all night. I was so confused about everything. I was afraid of this, of us. Of what was going to happen. Of what was going to change. But the truth is, Nick, I was even more afraid of losing you."

He moves up, trying to get as close to her as he can without drawing suspicion. "This isn't going to be easy."

"I know," Miley replies, "but nothing easy is ever worth it."

* * *

**So many apologies for the lack of update, people. I'm having trouble with the site. I couldn't log on for the longest time, and even uploading a file took a couple of tries. But it's here now so it's all good. Also, I will try to get new chapters up soon. I have a break from school in two weeks, and I hope to get some writing done then. Just please try to bear with me if you decide to stick around :)**


	13. Los Angeles & Franklin

_From: smileymiley1123_

_To: nickj4prez_

_Hey Boyfrienddd!_

_I just got home to Franklin, and I miss you already. I thought those two weeks we were apart were bad. This is going to be serious torture. Anyway, I'm hanging out in my room and doing some unpacking. I found one of your white V-necks in my suitcase. I guess it must have accidentally got mixed in with my stuff. ...Oops? The worst/best part is that it still smells like you. I think I'm going to put it on after I take a shower._

_You're still on your flight to L.A. and you're probably not going to check your e-mail until you're all settled in at home. But when you do, write me back. I'll be waiting!_

* * *

**From: nickj4prez**

**To: smileymiley1123**

**What's up Girlfriend?**

**I've waited forever to call you that. I'm so glad that you're finally mine.**

**I honestly meant to read my e-mail on the plane. Just as an FYI, I WAS going to check it. So you were wrong. But I got distracted writing down lyrics for a new song. Guess who inspired it? I'll give you a hint. She's gorgeous, hilarious, and has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. P.S. you might even know her. **

**I'm unpacking now, too. Elvis and Frankie were both in here, but I shooed them out so I could type this quick. I miss you.**

* * *

_From: smileymiley1123_

_To: nickj4prez_

_Hmm...this inspiration of yours sounds amazing. Should I be worried?_

_I'm just kidding. You flatter me too much sometimes, N.J.. I promise that I'm not as great as you think I am. You might be blinded by my incredibly good looks._

_I hung out with my sister, Noah, today. I think she's around Frankie's age actually. I picked her up and then we got lunch. I told her all of the crazy stories about you. She's a big JoBro fan. Joe's her favorite, though. Can't imagine why. At least I don't have to worry about her trying to steal you away from me. God, I can't even imagine what she'd do if she found out that we're dating._

_I wish that you could come visit. You'd probably like it here. It's all low-key and relaxed. No worries. No stress. It's such a change from being on the road. It'd do you some good. Not to mention that I'm here, so that's an added bonus._

_Tell me more about the song you're working on. I wanna know everything._

* * *

**From: nickj4prez**

**To: smileymiley1123**

**As much as I'd love to visit you, good luck convincing my parents that I'm taking a random trip across the country. My mom barely lets me do anything on my own now that I'm home. She's always hovering over me, checking if I'm all right, wanting to make me food. I'm surprised she even lets me pee on my own. Okay, maybe that's too much information.**

**I can't tell you about the song yet. It's still a work in progress. My dad was reading over the lyrics, and he thinks they're awesome. It means a lot coming from him, considering he's kind of harsh sometimes. But I'd rather him be honest, you know? **

**And you are as great as I think that you are. That's the problem with this whole songwriting thing. I can't put you into words.**

* * *

_From: smileymiley1123_

_To: nickj4prez_

_Stop saying such nice things to me. I swear that I'm blushing every time I read one of your e-mails. It's embarrassing. I have to make sure that I'm alone whenever I open them._

_I hope that this song that you're writing isn't too scandalous, N.J.. Do you remember how Joe reacted when he found out about 'My Love'? He knew that you had feelings for someone. He also assumed that it was about Selena. People don't write love songs out of the blue, you know. What if your dad catches on?_

* * *

**From: nickj4prez**

**To: smileymiley1123**

**Calm down and take a deep breath. My dad isn't suspicious of anything. He knows that I don't have feelings for Selena. He definitely doesn't think that anything's going on with you either. You are the furthest thing from his mind as far as I'm concerned. **

**I'm working on another song now. I think it might be even better than the last. I'm not even sure how that's possible. But if this keeps happening, I'm going to have to start recording them. And maybe I'll send you a clip or two.**

* * *

_From: smileymiley1123_

_To: nickj4prez_

_You better send me a clip or two. I think I deserve some perks for being your muse. I'm not just going to sit around while you write Grammy deserving songs about me :)_

_I'm excited about you recording. Just as long as you finish everything that you have to do before tour starts. If I get to Europe and you're not there, I'm going to be pissed. That's the only way I'm getting through this month, you know. By telling myself that it's just a few more days (well, weeks) until I get to see you again. Or touch you. I've never done this long distance relationship thing before. You're lucky that I like you. Otherwise, I would've ended this already._

_Kidding._

* * *

**From: nickj4prez**

**To: smileymiley1123**

**There's no way in hell that I'd miss the European leg. Make fun of me all you want, but I have a calendar in my room. I cross out each day as it passes. I know that I'm getting closer to you with each one. **

**My friend Garbo and I checked out a recording studio today. We're gonna book some time there to get work done. It's crazy. I was thinking back to how just a few months ago I could barely write a single lyric. Now I'm banging out ballads like it's nobody's business. **

**I'm really missing you, too. Can I call you later?**

* * *

_From: Miley_

_To: Nick_

_Call me now!_

* * *

"Hello?"

He laughs at her rushed greeting, like she's out of breath or something. "Did you really have to text me to tell me to call you? Don't you think it would've made more sense to just call me yourself?"

"Probably, but when do I ever do things that make sense?"

"You agreed to be my girlfriend," he teases. "That's gotta be the most sensible thing you've ever done."

"Wow. Cocky much?"

"Just confident."

"In what?"

"That I'm perfect for you. I'm going to take such good care of you, Miley. Wait and see."

She hums low, snuggles into her pillow. "I'm sure you are, N.J.. It's not like you've given me a reason to doubt you yet."

"I never will."

Miley grins. "So where are you? You said that we could only have phone calls if you were a hundred percent sure that no one would overhear you."

"I'm in bed. I think everyone's asleep by now, but I've got my pillow over my head so I won't be too loud."

"What, are you trying to suffocate yourself or something?"

"No, Miley. I'm trying to muffle the sound."

"I was kidding. Jeez. Take it easy."

"Sorry. I'm just...stressed."

"Would you like me to give you a back massage?"

"No," he snorts. "That's kind of physically impossible given the circumstances."

"Just trying to help you out."

"I know. Talking to you is helping though."

She laughs. "I've been told that the sound of my voice is very soothing."

"I'm sure."

"Hey, you don't have to be mean," she teases. "Why don't you tell me about recording? How's that going?"

"Pretty well. I'm in the beatlab almost—"

"Beatlab?"

Miley can hear him pause, hesitating before he answers. "That's...uh...that's what I call it. You know, it's like a lab because I'm experimenting, but it's with music. So it's the beatlab."

"You came up with that yourself, didn't you?"

"I thought it was creative."

"It is. But back to your music. You're writing a lot?"

"Uh huh. I really can't stop, Miley. I can't remember the last time that I was on a roll like this."

"That's good. Keep going with it."

"I know. I'm afraid of stopping. I'm afraid it's going to end."

"It won't. We won't let that happen."

He hums. "We?"

"Well, I'm your muse, aren't I? It's kind of my job to make sure you write."

"I said that you could send me pictures."

"Perv," she mutters, making them both laugh. "You're going to get me in trouble one day, N.J.."

"How's that? Without you, I wouldn't be able to get this album done."

Miley shifts in her bed. "Album? You're writing a whole album?"

"I don't know. I could release, like, an EP or something. But the way things are going now, my dad thinks that I could have an album out early next year. Even at the end of this year."

"What about Europe?"

"I can write in Europe."

"And record?"

"I'm sure if it came down to it I could. That's a long time away, though, Miley."

"Two weeks."

"Really?" He sits up in his bed, tries to squint in the dark to get a glance at his calendar. "We've reached the halfway mark already?"

"Yeah. I thought that you were keeping track."

"I was. I am. I'm just...surprised."

"Surprised?"

"Excited," he clarifies. "Thrilled. Over the moon."

She tries not to sound disappointed. "Me too."

"Hey, why don't you tell me more about Tennessee?" Nick says, desperately trying to get this conversation back on track. "I mean, you mentioned it in your e-mails, but there wasn't anything specific."

"Another time, okay? It's getting late. I'm tired. I just wanted to hear your voice before I went to sleep."

"Right. Yeah. I'll let you go."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

* * *

**From: nickj4prez**

**To: smileymiley1123**

**I couldn't sleep after our conversation last night. Miley, I'm so sorry. I told you that I'm bad with words. And, yet again, I said something that fucked everything up.**

**I really can't wait to get back to you. I've just become so consumed with writing that Europe kind of got sidetracked in my mind. It helps, you know. Writing. It makes me think of you, and that makes me happy. You make me happy. I hope you know that. I hope I make you happy, too.**

**In case you need a little extra encouragement, I've attached a 30 second clip of a ballad I just recorded and a picture of yours truly.**

* * *

_From: smileymiley1123_

_To: nickj4prez_

_Send me a shirtless picture, and then we'll talk._

_Joking, Boyfriend. I will take any picture of you that I can. And the adorable one that you sent of you with Elvis really tugged at my heartstrings. You shouldn't be allowed near animals. It's like cuteness overload._

_I hope that you don't think that I was ever mad at you. I know that you're focused on your music. I want that to be your priority. Trust me. That's why I want to help you any way that I can. The ballad that you sent me was absolutely beautiful. I've been listening to it nonstop. You are way more talented than you realize._

_Don't lock yourself up for too long in the beatlab. This is the only break you're getting until Joe's tour comes to its end. And while we're on the subject, I hope things are going okay with that brother of yours._

* * *

**From: nickj4prez**

**To: smileymiley1123**

**Things with Joe are...weird. I guess that's the best word. I honestly haven't seen him that much. He has his own apartment out here, and I'm still living at home with my parents. He's come over for dinner twice, but I missed him the second time. I was at the beatlab.**

**I don't want you to worry about him, Miley. I only want to think about us. The two of us. Nobody is going to get in the way of what we have. I won't let it happen. Like I told you, it's not going to be easy. But we're going to be okay. I'll take you out (if you'll let me). I promise it'll be just as much fun as that night in Dallas aka the best date of my entire life.**

* * *

_From: smileymiley1123_

_To: nickj4prez_

_Hey, as long as it's as good as the time we spent in my bedroom in Dallas, I'm not complaining. Of course, I think you've come a long way since then. So I'm sure that it'll be even better._

_I got a call from Lauren today. She's got a million questions about what to do with you. Not that she thinks you're going to be trouble or anything. She just wants to impress you. In fact, I'm kind of positive that she has some kind of crush on you. Can't imagine why... It's not like you're attractive or even remotely good-looking :)_

_Ughh. That's such a lie. I can't even fool myself anymore. I just Googled you for fun, and now I don't want to go back to working on my Joe schedule. This is an unfair relationship. I help you with your work, and you totally distract me from mine._

* * *

**From: nickj4prez**

**To: smileymiley1123**

**Only 10 MORE DAYS and then you can see my attractive/good-looking face in person! Can you feel the excitement?**

**I think you should just throw out your Joe schedule. Make a Nick schedule instead. Daily activities could include: watching Yankees games, holding hands, eating delicious European foods, making out, taking moonlight strolls, and cuddling. Doesn't that sound like fun? I thought so. Now get to work.**

* * *

_From: smileymiley1123_

_To: nickj4prez_

_I have to admit, N.J., that I think you're the first guy to ever suggest cuddling. Fellas usually don't go for that kind of thing. However, you are a very good cuddler, and I like being all snuggled up against you, so I'll let it slide._

_We are getting so close to Europe now. I'm definitely feeling the excitement. You should book a flight that stops over in Tennessee. Then, we could fly over to Sweden together and maybe even join the Mile High Club along the way._

* * *

**From: nickj4prez**

**To: smileymiley1123**

**I'm not in charge of booking the flights. If I was, you know that I'd make that my priority. But that's my dad's job. I think we're stopping in New York. The last place that we were together. The last place I saw you. The last place I kissed you. **

**I can't wait to be with you again. I'm going to find you as soon as I land.**

* * *

_From: smileymiley1123_

_To: nickj4prez_

_Hate to break it to you, but I'm fairly sure that I'm going to land after you. I have a stopover in Germany. I won't be getting to Sweden until late at night. You might have to wander around the hotel and entertain yourself for a while before I get there. I'm sure you'll survive. We made it this far._

_Oh, and I just had an hour long phone conversation with Lauren. Girl can talk. I'm giving you a fair warning now. You're not going to have a single moment of silence while you're with her. Just something else for you to look forward to._

* * *

**From: nickj4prez**

**To: smileymiley1123**

**The only thing I'm looking forward to is you.**

* * *

She rolls her eyes and shuts her laptop. A sentence? Really? She sent that e-mail to him two days ago. That's all he could bother to reply with. And sure, it's sweet of him to write that, but she was kind of expecting a little more.

Miley calls him. It rings once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Voicemail.

"Hello?"

She pulls back from the phone, surprised to hear his voice. "Uh...hi? I thought you weren't there."

"I'm here. Yeah, I'm here." There's a quiet shuffling, and then he's breathing loud again. "Sorry, I'm at a meeting with the label."

"You're in a meeting?"

"Not yet. It's going to start in another few minutes. I saw you were calling, so I excused myself."

"Did your dad flip a shit?"

"Kind of. He'll deal though." Nick sighs. "So what's up? Everything okay?"

"Mhm. I got your e-mail, and I kind of felt like checking in."

"I just sent it. I'm sorry. I know you wrote to me a while ago, but I've been really busy. My dad's been making phone calls and planning things."

"Oh. I guess he heard your new music."

"Not all of it, but what he's heard, he likes."

"That's great, N.J.," she says. "I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of myself. This record is going to be amazing, Miley. It's not done yet, but I can feel it. This one's going to be different. A good different."

"So what are you doing there? Are you going to play some of the music for the executives?"

He swallows. "Uh huh. That's kind of why I wanted to take your phone call, too. To help me calm down. I'm kind of freaking out."

"That doesn't sound like the cool, calm, and collected Nick Jonas that I'm familiar with."

Nick laughs, and it makes her heart stutter. "I'm none of those things when I'm around you. We both know that."

"Okay. You've got a point. Just try picturing them in their underwear."

"Miley, they're a bunch of fifty year old guys. That's disgusting."

"Pretend you're playing the songs for me then."

"You in your underwear? Yeah, you're right. I like that vision a lot more."

She snorts. "That's not what I meant."

"I know, but thinking about you isn't going to help either. You only make me more nervous."

"N.J.—"

"My dad's calling me. I gotta go. I have to go back in there."

"You'll do great. Don't worry."

"Okay."

"I'll have my fingers crossed for you."

"All right."

"Hang up the phone, Nick."

"Right. Okay, I'm hanging up." He inhales sharp. "Wait, Miley?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

She stops. Breathing. Thinking. Everything.

"I just— I know it was implied in 'My Love' with the lyrics and the title and everything, but I never actually told you. I mean, I never actually said it. So I figured I should just tell you just in case you didn't know. Even though, I think you did know. But now you know for sure so..." He stops and then goes again. "I'm gonna hang up now. And I really can't wait to see you, in case I didn't mention that before."

Then, the line goes dead.

* * *

**Hello! Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I just wanted to make sure that I was almost done with the next one before posting this one. The next chapter will have everyone in Europe with lots more fun/excitement/drama. **

**Also, I received a review referring to the scene in the prologue. But I couldn't respond to it, so I figured I'd address it here in case anyone else was wondering the same thing. The London scene will be coming up, however it won't be in the next chapter. And the question Nick asks Miley isn't necessarily "Will you...be my girlfriend?" It could be something else. Everything that has happened so far, happened for a reason. Don't dismiss anything that's been written. It'll all make sense in the end :)**


	14. Stockholm, Sweden

"And I know he's, like, very detail-oriented, so do you think he'd like it if I gave him itineraries every week?"

"Itineraries?" Miley repeats, rolling her suitcase along. "What would Nick need those for?"

"So he knows what we're going to do each day. I've been doing research on all of our tour stops, and I think I've found some places that he'd want to visit."

"Lauren, you don't have to plan out field trips for him."

"But I don't want him to get bored," she replies as they get into the elevator. "There are a couple of cool museums we could check out. And when the weather's nice, we can take a walking tour."

"I never did that kind of thing with him."

"You spent a lot of time with him, though. I figured you'd have a good idea whether or not he'd like it."

Miley sighs. "To be honest, he probably won't. He likes being around Joe, so he'll want to tag along with me."

"I don't want him to."

She narrows her eyes. "Why not?"

Lauren shrugs. "Well, you two seem to be pretty close now. You've only known each other for a few months, and I...um...kind of want that with him, too."

"If you think you're going to become best friends with Nick Jonas, let me warn you. You have another thing coming. It took a while for him to even open up to me."

That's not true. She and Nick were flirting from the day they met. But Lauren doesn't need to know that.

"Yeah, he's definitely the quiet one. I kind of like that, though. It makes him more mysterious."

"Okay," Miley laughs, "you need to chill out a bit. You're getting ahead of yourself."

"Right. You're right." Lauren giggles. "Sorry, I'm just kind of overwhelmed. There's so much to do, and I have no idea how you managed to get through the last leg on your own."

"You'll be fine. If you have any questions, you can always ask me. I told you that."

"Thanks. Um...just one more question, though. It's okay to leave him alone, too, right? Like if he asks for some time by himself?"

Miley nods. "Where is he now?"

"He said he wanted to go to the ballroom to work on some music. I offered to go with him, but he declined. It's kind of weird. You'd think he'd want to unpack—"

"It's fine," she replies, cutting her off. "Give him space. When he needs you, he'll let you know."

"So I shouldn't go after him?"

"No. No, definitely not." Miley smiles. "I'm just gonna go to my room, okay? I want to get settled in and everything."

Lauren waves, but Miley only half returns it. She's more determined than ever to get to her room now. Especially since she knows what's waiting for her on the other side of the door.

Sure enough, Nick's sitting on the couch. He's got the remote in one hand, and the most adorable smile on his face. "Apparently, they don't air Yankees games in Sweden."

"Who would've thought?" she replies, setting her bags on the carpet. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to surprise you. I stole one of the keys out of your envelope. No one even noticed."

"Yes," Miley says as he gets up, "but I was told that you were in the ballroom."

"We both know that's code for your room."

"That we do."

She blinks. By the time her eyes open again, her back's to the wall and Nick's all up against her. "It's not fair," he murmurs. "You just got off a twelve hour flight, and you still look breathtaking."

"Technically, it was a ten hour flight," she says as he unwraps the scarf from around her neck. "I had a two hour layover in Frankfurt."

"I see. You wanted me to wait even longer to be with you."

"Yes, exactly." Miley shrugs her coat off her shoulders, letting it fall to the carpet. "That's just what I wanted."

"You're cruel."

"Hey, I'm the one waiting for you to kiss me, hotshot."

He finally does. His hands frame the familiar contours of her face, thumbs stroking her high cheekbones. And thank God that she's here. That he can kiss her and feel her. He shouldn't have been away from her this long.

As Nick's tongue parts her lips, Miley's fingers slip under his shirt. His skin is warm to the touch, and he kind of feels more...muscular than she can remember. She wonders if he spent part of his break in the gym. Lying about being in the beatlab all the time when he was really just trying to bulk himself up to impress her.

Exploring more, Miley hums high as the muscles in his back tense and roll. And, yes, that is different. She wants to see how different it is. Tear off his shirt and jeans and everything. But while the couch is conveniently located just a few steps away, it won't allow her the room to do all the things she wants.

"Bedroom," she breathes.

"Sofa," he counters.

She gasps, the need for him skyrocketing as his hips roll into hers. "No."

"Yes."

Nick swings her around. He lifts her legs up as they cross the room. But Miley reaches behind her, braces her hands against the armrest of the couch to stop him from laying her on it. "I said I want to go to the bedroom."

He pouts, presses his forehead to hers. "Why do you always get what you want?"

"Because I'm your girlfriend, and it should be your main priority to keep me satisfied." She fists his shirt and pulls him in, kissing him until she can feel him melt beneath her lips. "Bedroom."

His eyes stay closed as she releases him. "Okay."

Miley swings her legs back to the carpet. She slips out from Nick, who is still somewhat motionless. So she starts moving, kicks off her shoes as she goes. She knows Nick. She knows that wherever she goes, he'll never be far behind. That's why she's not surprised to hear his footsteps nearing.

Or feel his arms wrap around her waist.

She smiles as he comes up behind her, lips pressed to her neck. "I missed you."

"Missed you, too, N.J.. But we're here now. We have a whole month together."

"In Europe."

"Yeah, in Europe," she murmurs, spinning around to him, "We should probably go exploring."

"Probably."

"But not tonight."

"Mhm," he hums against her mouth. "Not tonight."

Miley looks up at him. "How about we order room service?" she offers. "It'll be like a date in the hotel room."

He raises an eyebrow. "I don't think I heard you right. Are you suggesting that we go on a _date_? Because I thought you didn't do those."

"I guess you made me change my mind." She takes his hand, pulls him towards the bedside table. "C'mon. What do you want me to order?"

"Champagne and strawberries."

Miley laughs. "Nicholas Jonas, it sounds like you're trying to seduce me."

"You're the one who led the way to the bedroom."

Point taken. She picks up the phone, dials room service, climbs up on the bed. He stands there. Watches. Eyes on hers the entire time.

As Miley places the order, she pats the space next to her. Not that she should even have had to. He's got an open invitation as far as she's concerned. But it's only when she's made it obvious that he's welcome that he comes closer.

Miley maneuvers him onto his back and climbs onto his lap. She's already putting her plan together as she leans over to kiss him. Hey, he was the one who said that he wanted her help. And, yes, maybe she should go slow with him. She will go slow with him. Just not tonight. Not when it's been a whole month since she's gotten any kind of action from him. From anyone.

She jolts her hips hard into his, making sure that he can feel it through his jeans and boxers or whatever he's wearing underneath. He pulls his mouth away from hers. Breathes in sharp.

"_Miley_."

"It's okay," she says, grabbing onto his shoulders for some extra leverage. "Just go with it."

It's not like he has any intentions to _not_ go with it. His body sure as hell isn't going to make him stop. With the way she's moving on top of him, and the view—

Miley gasps in surprise as he pushes up against her. His hands move up from her hips and to her shirt. She stretches her arms without any hesitation, letting him strip it from her body.

Nick rolls them over. He's breathing hard as his lips press to her forehead, the tip of her nose, to her own lips. She tries to capture his mouth again, but his attention has shifted to her neck now, showering the skin with nips and kisses.

She stretches an arm behind her head, letting it fall back against the pillow. "These last four weeks wouldn't have been so torturous if I knew that I'd be getting this special treatment when we were reunited."

"I don't like being away from you. You should know that."

And she does. She thinks back to Dallas. How it was so hard to hold herself back, to hold _him_ back. How that night could've turned out differently if she hadn't reminded him—

Her back arches as his lips dip between her breasts. She wonders suddenly if he can feel how fast her heart is going. When did she get so worked up anyway? He _is_ trying to seduce her. She knew it.

His eyelashes flutter against her skin while he tends to her stomach. His palms touch along her inner thighs, and she absolutely needs him now. Her body's desperate and throbbing for him.

"Nick."

"Mhm. I'm here. I'm right here."

He drops his hold on her. Her legs wrap around his waist on their own volition, holding him tight as he leans up towards her. She groans softly as he kisses her, lips brushing in the sweetest of ways. And he's not close enough. Not even as she brings her arms around his neck, keeping them chest to chest.

Nick nuzzles into her. His heart's thumping so erratically, he can barely calm himself. Can barely get enough air into his lungs to say, "I love you."

He hears her breathe in sharp. Miley didn't mean to be that loud. It's just different. Hearing him say it while he's in her arms instead of a thousand miles away.

"You love me?"

"Yeah."

Her fingers thread through his hair. "Why?"

"Because I do." Nick shifts his weight to his elbows. "Why else would I say it?"

"I don't know." She catches his jaw as he leans in again, runs her thumb over his smooth lips. "Maybe you just really like me. Or maybe you're infatuated with me."

"Or _maybe_ I love you." He pulls free, kisses her soundly on the mouth. "It's okay. I wasn't expecting you to say it back."

Miley frowns. "But how do you know you love me?"

Nick blinks. He takes a deep breath and then leans into the crook of her neck. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asks, voice muffled against her skin. "I mean, I don't know if it actually counts as a secret, but it's something that only one other person knows."

"Yes," she says, stroking his back. "You can tell me."

He inhales again. Exhales slow. "I'm not a... I mean, I've..."

And she gets it. He doesn't even have to say anything else.

"Oh."

She doesn't really know what to say, either.

Nick swallows. "It wasn't some spur of the moment thing. We were together for a long time. I thought we were in love with each other."

That's not what Miley wanted to hear. She didn't want some girl ruining that for him. Something that was supposed to be special.

"She wasn't in love with you?"

Nick finally looks up at her, eyes wide. "I wasn't in love with her," he murmurs. "Everything felt right. Everything that we were together felt right. Then I got a chance to tour. We were going to take the time to just be together, but I loved the music. So I got on a bus and never looked back."

"So that's why you don't talk anymore. Because you left her?"

"She wants nothing to do with me. I can't say that I blame her."

She nods, slips her hand beneath his shirt. "Was it...just one time?"

"No, it was...uh...a few times. Nothing, like, crazy, though."

Miley laughs. He leans in to kiss her. And this time, when she grasps the ring around his neck, it doesn't burn.

"It's different with you. That's how I know. My dad and the label—they tried to get me to stay in L.A., but I wanted to be here with you."

"Why did they want you to stay?"

"For the album." Nick leans back. He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, unfolding a piece of paper and handing it to her. "I've been writing a lot, like I told you. It's crazy. I got the chorus of this one in my head while I was waiting for you show up."

He lowers his head to her ear, starts singing as she reads along. It's sweet and romantic and perfect. It's like everything he ever wanted to say to her but couldn't. So he put it all to music instead. And it's the best song. Out of all the ones he played for her, this one tops them all.

His voice fades to a low hum before quieting completely. She feels his fingers thread through her hair. His lips to her temple. "I wrote it for you," he murmurs. "Every word and chord and note. They're all for you."

"Yeah."

"Did you like it?"

She wants to tell him yes. Wants to tell him how beautiful it is. He'll go record it, then. One more song to add to the track list. One song closer to a completed record. Then he won't need her any longer.

"It's all right."

Nick sits up. "All right?"

"Mhm. It's pretty good."

"Pretty good?" he repeats. "Miley, I just—I worked really hard on this."

She knows.

Instead, Miley shrugs her shoulders. "Oh."

Nick pulls the paper from her hands. And then, he's ripping it in two. In fourths. In eighths. In hundreds of tiny pieces littering the blankets.

"What are you doing?" Miley gasps. "Nick, you can't—"

"It's not good enough."

She's still trying to gather the shreds of the song together as he gets up from the bed, grabs his shoes, starts for the door. Okay, this wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to destroy it. He's not supposed to be leaving.

She leaps to her feet. "Where are you going?"

"To work on something new."

"I just got here. _You_ just got here. We were—"

"I need to do this now."

"Nick." Miley grabs onto his arm, stopping him before he escapes. "I didn't—I don't want you to go. Please."

His mind is already made up. "What if it's over, Miley? What if I can't write anymore? Do you expect me to just give up?"

"No."

"Then let me go."

_Yeah, Miley, let him go. Let him have his music. Problem fixed._

Except it's an easy fix.

There's a sudden knock at the door. They both look up, Miley's fingers still digging into his skin. "One second," she shouts.

Another knock.

"I'll be right there."

Nick turns to her. "It's room service. They have our food."

"I know, but—"

The knocking gets louder, more urgent. Nick jerks his arm away from her. "Go get dressed. You can't answer the door like that."

"Right," she mutters. "I'll just go put something on."

She shuffles into the other room. She's got her shirt in her hands when she hears the door open. That's then followed by a loud male voice. Not Nick's.

"What are you doing here?"

_There's_ Nick's voice.

Miley yanks on her tank top and then rushes over. Suddenly, she understands what all the commotion is over. It's Joe.

"Hey," he says, all smooth and nonchalant. "Come on. We're going out."

She glances over at Nick who now seems more pissed than before. "I can't. I need to stay here."

"You _need_ to go out with me. I feel like getting something to eat."

"Go downstairs to one of the restaurants."

"I want to get out of the hotel."

"I don't want to."

"Well, you work for me, so you don't really have a choice."

"Joe," Nick growls, "she said no. Leave her alone."

His fingers link around her wrist, and she can feel this huge wave of relief wash over her. But yelling at Joe isn't going to help them either.

Miley sighs. "Can you please just let me have one night off?"

"Oh," he muses, "you want a night off. Okay, I get it. You don't feel like doing your job."

"That's not what I—"

"Do you know what happens to people who don't do their job, Miley? They get fired. And, wow, wouldn't it be a shame if that happened to you?"

"I'm not going to get fired for refusing to go out with you. I just got here. I'm tired. Most people would understand that."

"Most people wouldn't think that you're involved with my brother, either. I would really hate for that to get out."

"You're going to blackmail her?" Nick hisses. "You've known for over a month, and you're going to use it against her now?"

"I'll use it whenever I want. Unless, you'd rather come clean about everything."

"It's fine," Miley says. "I'll go." She leans down, picks up her jacket from where it's still laying on the ground. "It's just dinner."

"It's dinner with _him_."

She doesn't miss the way Joe smirks at his brother's comment. But instead of saying anything, she leans up and kisses Nick's cheek. "Wait a couple of minutes, and then go back to your room. Make sure there's no one in the hall to see you."

Nick doesn't get a word in. Miley's ushered out the door. Joe keeps up with her pace, stuffs his hands in his pockets. "So this will be fun."

She huffs. "I know you hate me, but I seriously screwed up before. You should've let me fix things with Nick."

"Jeez, you've been here for less than an hour, and you're already fighting with him?" He clicks his tongue. "I told you that it'd be complicated."

"You're making it _more_ complicated."

"And I'm thoroughly enjoying it."

"Don't do this for me," she says as he presses the button for the elevator. "Do it for Nick. You know how much he cares about his music."

Joe frowns. "His music?"

"He's written all of these songs, and they're amazing. He played one for me tonight. I lied and told him that I hated it for stupid, selfish reasons. But it's so good. It deserves to be on the album."

"He has an album?"

"He's going to. Your dad even thinks that he could release it by the end of the year. And this song, Joe, it _needs_ to be shared with other people. I think it's the best song he's ever written."

Which is exactly what she should have told Nick.

Joe chews at his bottom lip. "Really?"

"Yes, I swear. If you heard it, you'd love it, too. You really would."

She watches him think it over. And hopefully, she's convinced him. If not, she might just have to get on her knees and beg him. Not that she wants to. But it's for Nick.

"Tell you what," he says as the elevator doors open. "I'm starving, and I can't go out by myself. But if you go with me, I promise that you'll be back in your room in an hour."

"Okay." She grins. "Yes, thank you. Thank you."

* * *

Miley has to admit that she's completely surprised when Joe's true to his word. She was planning on being out all night, but now she has time. She can fix things with Nick.

It was her fault. She knows how important the music is to him. She knows how much stress he's under, trying to make everything perfect. She used that to her advantage in all the wrong ways.

She can make it better. She will. That's her plan once she gets to her room.

She's going to gather all of the shreds of paper from his song. Maybe she can find the corners first. Then, she'll put together the edges. And, eventually, she'll put together the whole sheet. She _did_ read the words. She knows what order they go in. Kind of.

Miley beeps open her door. Yet again, Nick is on her couch. He's sleeping this time around, the soft blue glow from the T.V. reflecting off his face. The half-eaten bowl of strawberries sits on the coffee table. The champagne is untouched.

She crouches down in front of him. And, damn it, why is he alluring even when he's asleep? It's like he exudes some chemical that constantly makes her want him.

"Hey, N.J.," she murmurs, stroking his cheek. "Hey, it's time to get up."

His dark eyelashes beat together as he slowly comes to his senses. He makes a soft grunting sound. Looks up at her. "Hi," he says.

"Hi. What are you doing here?"

"Mmm...I was going to leave like you told me to," he starts, voice all full with sleep, "but then room service showed up. So I ate the food, and then I got tired. I wanted to take a nap."

"On the couch?"

"I was really full. I could barely move." Nick yawns. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you about before."

"I was going to call you when I got in."

"I wasn't sure if you were mad at me."

"I still would've called." Miley licks her lips. "I'm sorry for starting a fight. I should've explained myself better."

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have gotten angry with you because you didn't like the song."

"I did, though. I did like it."

"But you—"

She glances away, brushes back her hair. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah. You kinda owe me one anyway."

Miley grins. "I just...I was surprised to hear how far you got with the album. I knew you wrote a lot of songs. I knew you were in meetings. It was weird having you in front of me and hearing you say it. It made it more real."

"So what's the problem with it being real?"

"I don't know."

Nick cups her chin in his palm, tips her eyes up to meet his. "You don't know?" he asks. "I'm sure there has to be a reason."

She shrugs.

"You don't have to tell me. It's all right." He threads his fingers through hers, presses his mouth to her forehead. "I love you."

Miley laughs. "C'mon. Let's get you to bed."

She pulls on his hands. Once she's got him on his feet, she turns off the T.V. and leads the way to her bedroom. It's only when she has the light on and sees the mess on the mattress that she remembers.

"The song," she says. "Nick, I'm going to fix it. I'm going to try to tape it back together, and I will. Even if it takes me all night."

"Wait, you're going to tape it together?"

"Yeah, I've got it all planned out."

"It's okay." And he can practically see her jaw unhinge and fall to the floor as he brushes all the pieces off the bed.

"What did you do that for?"

"Don't worry about the song," he says before kissing her. "I'm just glad that I still have you."

Miley hushes him. "You're overtired and talking nonsense."

"I'm not."

She rolls her eyes. Pressing her mouth to his, she reaches down to undo his jeans. She slips them off his hips. Nick kicks them the rest of the way off. "Stay here tonight, okay?" she whispers. "I'll be right back."

Miley hears him rustling with the blankets as she goes into the bathroom. She shimmies out of her clothes. Shakes out her hair. Stares at her reflection.

She knows she's screwed up. Though she wants to fight it, Nick's important to her. The music's important to him. She has to help him get it back. And she knows exactly how to do it.

He's dozing off again by the time she gets back to bed. Miley swings a leg over his hips, nips at her favorite spot on his neck. Just like that, he's awake.

His hands jump forward to steady her. But the surprise of her bare skin beneath his fingers causes him to let out an involuntary growl. "_Miley_."

"Don't go to sleep yet," she says, tugging at the elastic band of his boxer-briefs. "Stay up with me instead."

* * *

**Hey, everyone! Sorry again for the lack of update. I realized that the story was deviating from my outline, so I had to do some quick work and restructure. But we're all good now. Keep your eyes peeled for updates soon. I finish up with finals this week which means I'll have plenty of free time to write & finish this story up! Thanks so much for reading :)**


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